"The  child  loved  to  be  taken  down  to  the  water's  edge."—  Page  135. 


OLD  CHRISTIE'S  CABIN. 


BY 


EMILY    BRODIE, 

AUTHOR   OF 
'  LONELY  JACK,"    "  I'NCLE   FRED'S   SHILLING,"   "  COUSIN   DORA,"    ETC.    ETC. 


NEW   YORK: 

ROBERT   CARTER   &   BROTHERS, 
530  BROADWAY. 


3  S)e&fcate 

THIS    LITTLE    BOOK 


My  many  dear  young  Friends,  hoping  they  -will  find  as 

much  happiness  in  a  ministering  life  as  the 

Children  of  the  Story. 


STACK 

AKNCI 

5125910 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PACK 

i.  ARTHUR'S  ARRIVAL g 

II.    THE    OTHER   SIDE   OF   THE   WALL I/ 

in.  CHRISTIE'S  CABIN 26 

IV.    OLD   MR.    FERRERS 33 

v.  MRS.  CAMERON'S  VISIT     .  41 

vi.  WILL'S  HOME 48 

VII.    BIRDIE 54 

VIII.    BIRDIE   GOES   TO   REGENT'S   PARK 64 

IX.    MAKING   TEA 7O 

x.  HUBERT'S  PLAN 78 

xi.  RILEY'S  WORKSHOP 90 

XII.    THE   YOUNG  WORKPEOPLE IOO 

XIII.  THE   FLITTING 1  ...    IO9 

XIV.  TWO   LITTLE   LONDONERS 119 

XV.    STOURCLIFFE 13° 

XVI.    FIREMEN   NEEDED 13$ 

XVII.    SAM    FINDS   A   FRIEND 147 

xvni.  BERNARD'S  LETTER 157 


viii  Contents. 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XIX.    THE  OLD  CASTLE 167 

XX.   A  BATTLE  ROYAL 175 

XXI.   OLD  MARKHAM           .                     187 

XXII.    A   MINISTERING   CHILD 195 

XXIII.    BERNARD 203 

xxiv.  ARTHUR'S  DEN 212 

XXV.    CHRISTMAS   MORNING       ' 2IQ 


OLD   CHRISTIE'S   CABIN. 


CHAPTER  I. 
ARTHUR'S  ARRIVAL. 

JTHIN  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  Thames,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Barnes  and  Putney, 
are  still  standing  some  of  the  old  houses 
that,  a  century  ago,  were  inhabited  by  the  wealthy  of 
the  land.  To-day  they  still  tell  the  tale  of  their  past 
glories.  Many  are  surrounded  by  high  walls,  which 
enclose  the  stately  trees  of  many  years'  growth,  and 
in  not  a  few  can  be  seen  the  weird-looking  branches 
of  a  cedar  of  Lebanon. 

In  one  of  these  houses  lived  old  Mr.  Ferrers, 
and  there  he  had  lived  alone,  since  the  wife  of  his 
youth  had  been  taken  from  him  some  years  before. 
His  only  son  had  gone  to  India  shortly  before  his 
mother's  death,  and  lately  the  news  had  come  by 

9 


io  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

telegram  that  this  son  had  died  from  a  sudden  attack 
of  fever,  and  his  widow  and  little  son  Arthur  were 
on  their  way  to  England.  The  news  had  been  re- 
ceived by  the  old  gentleman  with  wonderful  com- 
posure— so  his  servants  said  ;  but  if  Mr.  Ferrers 
said  little,  he  probably  felt  the  more.  Long  years  of 
residence  in  India  had  greatly  shattered  his  health, 
and  he  was  quite  unfit  to  go  down  to  Southampton 
to  receive  his  daughter-in-law  and  little  grandson  ; 
so  he  deputed  Mrs.  Markham,  his  faithful  house- 
keeper, to  do  it  for  him.  She  had  been  nurse  to 
the  little  Arthur's  father,  and  it  was  with  streaming 
eyes  that  she  watched  the  large  P.  and  O.  steam- 
ship, as  she  drew  near  shore,  bearing  all  that  was 
left  of  her  old  favourite.  But  there  was  sadder  news 
to  be  heard  still.  Just  as  the  vessel  had  passed 
Gibraltar,  the  young  Mrs.  Ferrers  had  succumbed 
to  the  fatigue  and  sorrow  of  the  last  few  months. 
Little  Arthur  was  not  only  fatherless,  but  motherless. 

Passengers  had  done  all  they  could  to  comfort 
the  lonely  boy ;  but  there  had  not  been  a  dry  eye 
on  deck  as  the  little  fellow,  as  chief  mourner,  stand- 
ing slightly  apart  from  every  one  else,  gazed  with 
awe-struck  eyes  as  they  committed  to  the  waves  the 
mother  he  had  loved  so  dearly. 

And  so  it  was  that,  when  Mrs.  Markham  reached 
Cannon  Lodge  the  same  evening  of  the  arrival  of 
the  vessel,  she  had  no  daughter-in-law  with  her  to 


A rt/mr's  A rrival.  1 1 

cheer  the  remaining  years  of  the  lonely  old  man — only 
a  very  sad  little  boy  of  seven,  who  felt  strangely 
shy  and  ill  at  ease.  For  the  first  time  he  seemed 
interested  when  the  train  stopped,  just  before  enter- 
ing London,  and  he  caught  sight  of  the  many  lights 
glimmering  out  of  the  darkness. 

"  Is  this  London,  please  ? "  he  asked  in  a  timid 
voice,  for  the  highly  respectable  Markham  had  some- 
what over-awed  him. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  this  is  London ;  and  I  am  sure 
you  must  be  tired  out.  You'll  be  glad  to  get  to  bed, 
I  know." 

In  two  or  three  more  minutes  the  train  steamed 
into  Waterloo,  and  shortly  Arthur  was  rattling  along 
over  the  noisy  stones,  too  bewildered  almost  to 
understand  where  he  was.  But  as  they  reached 
the  bridge,  and  he  saw  the  countless  gas-lights  re- 
flected in  the  water,  he  gave  a  cry  of  delight. 

"  This  must  be  what  my  papa  told  me  about,"  he 
said,  seizing  Markham's  hand  in  his  excitement,  "  it  is 
the  river,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  this  is  the  river,  sure  enough.  Did 
your  papa  tell  you  about  it  ?  "  she  asked,  interested  in 
her  turn. 

"  Yes ;  he  said  there  was  a  little  room  in  his  old 
home  right  at  the  very  top,  and  he  used  to  sit  there, 
and  watch  the  lights  and  the  boats  as  they  went  up 
and  down." 


1 2  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

"  Bless  the  boy !  to  think  he  should  have  heard 
of  that,"  said  Markham  to  herself;  and  then  aloud, 
"  but  that's  all  filled  with  lumber  now ;  I  don't  think 
you  could  get  into  it." 

She  could  see,  even  by  the  faint  light  of  the  gas, 
the  disappointed  look  upon  the  little  fellow's  face. 

Presently  he  said,  "  Have  we  far  to  go  now,  Mark- 
ham  ?  " 

"  Not  far.      You  are  very  tired,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  No,  not  so  very,"  he  said  doubtfully.  "  Do  you 
think  my  grandpapa  will  be  glad  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  very  glad.  He'll  have  been  looking 
for  you  all  the  afternoon,  I  expect." 

"  But  he  will  be  sorry  that  mother  hasn't  come 
too,  won't  he  ?  He  will  not  know  what  to  do  with  a 
little  boy  like  me." 

Markham  had  no  time  to  answer,  for  at  this 
moment  the  carriage  drew  up  at  the  great  wooden 
gates.  They  were  instantly  opened  by  the  gardener, 
who  was  close  at  hand,  and  the  carriage  drove  up  to 
the  front  door. 

Mr.  Ferrers  had  also  heard  the  wheels,  and  was 
now  standing  on  the  step,  the  evening  air  blowing 
his  long  white  hair.  The  little  grandson  that  the 
gardener  lifted  out  was  a  great  contrast.  Though 
he  was  seven  years  old,  he  still  wore  his  long  fair 
curls.  His  mother  had  been  loth  to  cut  them  off, 
and  had  gladly  kept  them,  saying  that  grandpapa 


Arthur  s  Arrival.  13 


would  like  to  see  them.  His  cheeks  were  very  pale, 
and  there  was  a  more  anxious  look  in  the  thoughtful 
eyes  than  one  would  wish  to  see  in  so  young  a 
child. 

Mr.  Ferrers  held  him  closely  for  a  moment,  then 
said,  "  But  where  is  your  mother,  Arthur  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  know  ?  "  the  little  fellow  said,  trying 
hard  to  keep  back  his  tears,  and  looking  up  appeal- 
ingly  at  Markham,  as  if  he  could  not  tell  the  rest. 

"  Come  into  the  library,  sir,"  she  said  in  a  shaking 
voice.  He  took  the  boy's  ^hand,  and  slowly,  very 
slowly,  did  as  Markham  told  him.  He  sank  into 
his  easy  chair. 

"  Is  she  gone  too  ?  "  he  asked  ;  "  tell  me  quickly, 
Markham." 

"  It  is  even  so,  sir.  I  am  grieved  to  bring  such 
tidings  :  I  will  tell  you  all  presently " — for  she  had 
glanced  at  Arthur,  and  felt  she  could  not  tell  all 
the  sad  story  before  him.  There  was  a  dead  silence 
in  the  room  for  a  minute  or  two,  Arthur  standing 
meanwhile  leaning  against  his  grandfather's  chair, 
his  big  eyes  looking  at  him  wistfully. 

Presently  Mr.  Ferrers  said,  "  Take  the  boy  to 
the  dining-room,  Markham ;  he  must  be  tired  and 
hungry.  Let  him  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  possible." 

But  Arthur  was  not  hungry.  He  scarcely  touched 
the  dainties  put  before  him,  and  then  gladly  went 
upstairs  to  bed. 


14  Old  Christies  Cabin. 

With  kind  thoughtfulness,  rooms  had  been  pre- 
pared for  Mrs.  Ferrers  and  her  little  son  leading 
out  of  one  another.  Now  Markham  quietly  shut  the 
door  of  the  larger  room  and  led  Arthur  into  the 
smaller  one,  which  was  properly  the  dressing-room. 
Here  one  of  the  cosiest  little  beds  stood  ready  for 
him,  and  before  long  Arthur  was  asleep,  happily 
forgetful  of  all  his  sorrows  and  the  new  life  that 
was  beginning  for  him. 

The  next  morning  he  woke  early  ;  and  after  gazing 
round  the  room  for  a  few  seconds,  half-wondering 
where  he  was,  he  jumped  out  of  bed,  and,  lifting  the 
blind,  peeped  out.  If  the  prospect  was  somewhat 
circumscribed,  it  was  pretty  enough  to  please  any 
child.  The  window  looked  out  on  to  the  back 
garden.  Almost  in  the  centre  of  the  mossy  lawn 
stood  the  strange,  weird  cedar.  It  was  May,  and 
the  lilacs  and  laburnums  were  in  full  bloom,  making 
the  old  garden  quite  radiant  in  the  sunshine.  Then 
there  came  a  wall,  and  beyond  that  again  another 
garden.  Arthur's  pale  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure 
as  he  looked,  and  the  sad  anxious  expression  almost 
vanished.  He  wondered  what  time  it  was,  and 
wished  he  could  dress,  but  then  remembered  that 
Markham  had  told  him  to  lie  quite  still  till  she 
came  to  him.  Rather  unwillingly  he  got  into  bed 
again,  but  it  seemed  dull  with  the  blind  down.  So 
out  he  got  once  more,  and  with  some  difficulty  sue- 


Arthur 's  Arrival.  15 

ceeded  in  pulling  it  up  high  enough  for  him  to  see 
the  trees  as  he  lay  in  bed.  It  seemed  a  long  time 
before  Markham  appeared  and  told  him  he  might  get 
up ;  then  her  quick  eyes  glanced  at  the  window. 

"What  did  you  pull  the  blind  up  for,  Master 
Arthur  ?  "  she  asked  sharply. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  out,"  said  Arthur,  looking  puzzled 
at  her  evident  displeasure. 

"  Then  you  must  learn  to  be  careful,  or  you  must 
leave  the  blinds  alone.  Just  see,  you  have  pulled  it 
up  all  awry ;  it  would  spoil  any  blind." 

Arthur  managed  to  say  he  was  very  sorry,  but  he 
had  a  hard  matter  to  gulp  down  his  tears.  He  re- 
membered just  in  time  that  his  father  always  said 
it  was  unmanly  to  cry,  and  so  he  mastered  himself. 

It  seemed  very  strange  to  the  little  boy  to  go 
downstairs  into  the  large  dining-room  and  take  his 
breakfast  all  alone.  His  grandfather,  Markham  said, 
was  not  very  well,  and  was  having  breakfast  in  his 
own  room.  Mr.  Ferrers  had,  indeed,  had  little  sleep 
that  night.  His  heart  and  head  were  filled  with 
thoughts  of  the  son  he  had  lost  and  his  young  wife. 
Besides,  he  was  full  of  perplexity  as  to  the  future. 
What  could  he  do  with  this  little  grandson  that  had 
so  unexpectedly  come  into  his  home,  with  no  one  to 
care  for  him  but  his  old  grandfather  ?  He  did  not 
want  to  see  the  boy  again  until  he  had  thought  it 
all  over ;  and  besides,  he  was  so  used  to  his  own 


1 6  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

company  that  he  was  not  sure  that  the  child  was 
very  welcome  under  the  present  circumstances.  If  his 
mother  had  lived  they  could  have  had  their  own 
apartments,  and  he  need  only  have  seen  them  when 
he  felt  inclined.  But  the  boy  was  there,  and  some- 
thing must  be  done  with  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  WALL. 


>N  the  other  side  of  the  great  wall  that  Arthur 
had  seen  was  another  garden  similar  to  Mr. 
Ferrers'  in  size,  but  different  in  the  way  it 
was  kept.  Mr.  Ferrers  took  great  pride  in  his ; 
indeed  it  was  his  one  hobby  ;  but  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  the  garden  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall 
was  rather  a  wilderness.  Dr.  Cameron  said  there 
were  so  many  children  that  he  had  no  money  to 
spend  on  flowers.  One  part  was  well  cared  for, 
however,  and  that  was  the  tennis-lawn ;  Bernard  took 
care  of  that ;  but  otherwise  the  garden  was  wild, 
decidedly  wild,  and  the  children  loved  to  have  it  so. 

While  Arthur  was  taking  his  breakfast  in  lonely 
grandeur,  a  very  different  breakfast  was  going  on 
in  the  next  house.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron  were 
punctual  people,  but  somehow  or  other,  do  what 
they  would,  everybody  was  always  in  a  hurry  at 
breakfast-time.  Two  of  the  boys  had  to  start 

17 


1 8  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

before  anybody  else,  as  they  went  to  one  of  the 
large  public  schools  in  London ;  Maude  wanted  to  run 
off  to  secure  half-an-hour's  practising  before  school ; 
while  her  elder  sister  Ethel  had  various  little  household 
duties  to  perform.  The  Chestnuts  was  a  large  house 
for  the  number  of  servants  that  Dr.  Cameron  could 
keep,  so  the  daughters  took  their  little  part  as  soon  as 
they  were  old  enough.  The  two  youngest  children, 
Hubert  and  Gladys,  were  still  enjoying  complete 
childhood,  and  when  breakfast  was  over  were  free 
to  go  out  to  the  garden,  where  they  took  the  swing 
in  turns,  which  was  one  of  their  greatest  delights. 

But  while  breakfast  was  going  on  that  morning 
Arthur  unconsciously  became  the  subject  of  conver- 
sation. It  was  Maude  who  began  it. 

"  Mother,  do  you  know  old  Mr.  Ferrers'  little 
grandson  arrived  last  night  ?  " 

."  He  has  really  come,  then.  I  wonder  if  the 
old  gentleman  is  pleased  to  have  them." 

"  It  is  not  them,  mother ;  only  the  little  boy  has 
come.  It  seems  young  Mrs.  Ferrers  died  on  her  way 
from  India." 

"  How  did  you  hear,  Maude  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Cameron,  putting  down  her  cup. 

"One  of  the  servants  met  Mary  last  evening 
as  she  was  going  to  the  pillar-box,  and  said  Mrs. 
Markham  had  just  arrived  with  only  the  little  boy, 
and  that  was  the  news  she  brought." 


The  other  Side  of  the  Wall.  19 

"  How  very,  very  sad !  I  cannot  help  hoping 
that  it  is  not  true." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is.  Mary  did  not  seem  to 
think  there  was  any  doubt  about  it." 

"  Poor  little  boy  ! "  said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "  It  is 
indeed  a  dull  house  for  him  to  come  to ;  he  is 
much  to  be  pitied.  I  can  hardly  imagine  a  child 
in  the  old  place.  It  would  have  been  quite  a 
different  thing  if  his  mother  could  have  been  with 
him.  I  wonder  if  we  shall  be  able  to  do  anything 
to  brighten  the  poor  child's  life." 

"  That  is  just  like  you,  my  dear,"  said  Dr.  Cameron 
from  his  end  of  the  table ;  "  but  you  must  remember, 
in  this  case,  that  you  have  a  somewhat  peculiar  per- 
sonage to  deal  with.  You  had  better  let  old  Ferrers 
make  the  first  advances." 

No  more  was  said  at  the  moment,  for  the  de- 
parture of  the  elder  boys  made  a  move  at  the 
table,  and  little  Arthur  and  his  troubles  were  soon 
forgotten. 

That  first  day  was  full  of  wonders  to  the  stranger. 
Novelty  lent  a  charm  to  everything,  and  his  delight 
was  great  when  Markham  consented  to  his  going 
down  to  the  river-side  with  Bailey,  the  housemaid. 
The  very  thought  that  his  father  had  known  and 
loved  the  river  seemed  to  give  it  a  great  fascination, 
and  Bailey  had  no  little  difficulty  in  persuading  him 
to  turn  homewards. 


2O  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

"  Just  one  five  minutes  more,  Bailey,  please," 
he  asked,  in  a  pleading  voice. 

"  Now,  Master  Arthur,  we  really  must  go,"  she 
said  when  five  minutes  and  more  had  passed. 

"  Do  you  really  think  we  have  been  five  minutes  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  Yes,  quite,"  answered  Bailey  ;  "  and  perhaps  your 
grandpapa  is  feeling  dull  without  you." 

This  had  the  desired  effect.  With  one  lingering 
look  at  the  fascinating  steamers  and  barges,  he 
turned  homewards  without  another  word. 

"  Bailey,"  he  said  presently,  "  do  you  really  think 
my  grandpapa  will  have  been  dull  without  me  ?  I 
should  be  so  sorry,  for  mother  said  I  was  to  try  and 
make  him  glad." 

"  No,  dear,  I  hope  he  will  not  have  been  dull ; 
but  1  think  he  will  be  glad  to  know  you  are  at  home 
again,"  said  Bailey  kindly. 

"  Then  we  will  walk  faster,  and  then  we  shall  get 
home  quick." 

It  was  not  till  the  evening  had  come,  and  Arthur 
was  tired  out  with  the  excitement  of  the  day,  that 
he  seemed  to  remember  his  mother  specially.  Mr. 
Ferrers  had  sent  to  the  bookseller's  for  a  book  full 
of  stories  and  pictures  of  animals,  thinking  it  would 
amuse  the  child.  With  this  on  his  knee,  he  sat  on 
a  low  stool  near  his  grandfather  as  he  read  the 
evening  paper,  and  nobody  saw  the  tears  which  would 


The  other  Side  of  the  Wall.  2 1 

drop   every   now   and    then   as    a    sense    of   intense 
loneliness  crept  over  the  child. 

The  next  day  was  Saturday,  always  a  red-letter 
day  to  the  young  Camerons,  as  it  meant  a  whole 
holiday.  At  least  it  meant  no  going  to  school,  and 
Miss  Moreton  did  not  come  to  teach  the  younger 
ones.  The  early  summer  morning  found  them  out 
in  the  garden,  Bernard  mowing  the  lawn  vigor- 
ously, the  others  amusing  themselves  according  to 
their  several  fancies.  They  were  quite  unconscious 
that  a  young  pair  of  eyes  was  watching  them  wist- 
fully from  a  tree  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall. 
Arthur  had  wandered  out  into  the  garden,  and  hear- 
ing children's  voices,  longed  to  see  to  whom  they 
belonged.  But  the  wall  was  so  high  and  Arthur  so 
little.  Suddenly,  with  a  boyish  instinct,  he  thought 
of  climbing  a  tree.  Looking  round,  he  saw  one 
that  seemed  likely  to  answer  his  purpose.  With 
nimble  movements  he  commenced  his  climb,  looking 
round  every  now  and  then  to  see  if  any  one  saw  him. 
Soon  he  had  reached  a  branch  that  was  at  any  rate 
high  enough  to  let  him  see  over  the  brick  barrier, 
and,  to  his  delight,  he  could  see  the  owners  of  the 
voices  and  watch  their  movements.  He  even  learnt 
their  names,  as  he  heard  them  calling  one  to  the 
other.  He  was  so  absorbed  watching  them  that 
he  forgot  all  about  breakfast,  till  he  heard  Mark- 
ham's  voice  calling  him.  Her  tones  seemed  to  get 


22  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

more  and  more  shrill  as  she  failed  to  find  the 
runaway. 

"  I  am  here,  Markham,"  Arthur  kept  calling  back, 
but  she  failed  to  hear  him  till  she  was  close  to  the 
tree  in  which  he  sat.  Then  he  burst  into  a  merry 
laugh  as  he  saw  her  utter  astonishment  when  she 
caught  sight  of  him. 

"  Master  Arthur  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  what  can  you 
be  doing  up  there  ?  And  just  fancy  what  a  state  your 
white  knickers  will  be  in  !  And  look  at  your  hands ; 
they  are  like  tinkers' ! " 

Arthur  looked  rather  ruefully  at  his  knickerbockers, 
then  at  his  hands. 

"  They  will  wash,  Markham,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  yes,  they'll  wash,  I  dare  say ;  but  whoever's 
going  to  keep  you  decent  if  you  get  such  a  little 
sweep  before  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  ?  " 

Perhaps  Arthur  thought  that  the  least  said  soonest 
mended ;  at  any  rate  he  said  no  more,  and  walked 
humbly  in  to  breakfast.  On  this  Markham  lavished 
any  amount  of  care.  It  grieved  her  to  see  the  child 
with  such  pale  cheeks  and  so  little  appetite,  so  she 
tempted  him  with  any  delicacies  within  reach. 

Poor  old  Mr.  Ferrers  was  sadly  perplexed  what 
to  do  with  the  boy.  For  the  present  he  con- 
tented himself  with  buying  fresh  toys  and  thinking 
of  anything  that  would  amuse  him  ;  but  it  was  many 
long  years  since  he  had  been  in  close  contact  with 


The  other  Side  of  the  Wall.  23 

a  child,  and  it  could  scarcely  be  said  that  he  took 
kindly  to  his  new  work.  A  ball  was  one  thing 
that  had  been  sent  for  from  the  neighbouring  toy- 
shop, and  Arthur,  after  playing  by  himself  for 
some  time,  coaxed  Bailey  out  into  the  garden  to 
play  with  him.  Mr.  Ferrers  watched  the  little  fellow 
from  the  library  window.  It  was  pleasant  to  hear 
his  joyous  laugh  as  Bailey  sometimes  failed  to  catch 
the  ball,  and  had  to  dive  in  and  out  among  the  shrubs 
to  find  it.  Mr.  Ferrers  became  so  interested  in  the 
play  that  presently  he  too  sauntered  out  and  seated 
himself  on  a  garden-seat.  Just  then  there  was 
a  cry  of  dismay  from  Arthur.  The  treasured  ball 
had  vanished  over  the  high  wall. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Arthur  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ferrers. 

"  Oh  grandpapa !  I  am  so  sorry ;  my  beautiful  ball 
has  gone  right  over  the  wall.  What  can  I  do  ?  Shall 
I  ever  get  it  back  again  ?  " 

Mr.  Ferrers  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  troubled 
little  face.  "  You  should  have  been  more  careful, 
Arthur,  and  not  sent  it  in  that  direction." 

"  Yes,  grandpapa ;  and  so  I  was,  till  just  this  once." 

"  You  may  go  round  to  the  front-door  if  you  like, 
and  ask  if  Mrs.  Cameron  will  allow  you  to  look  for 
your  ball,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers. 

He  expected  Arthur  to  ask  if  Bailey  might  go 
instead,  but  the  little  fellow  never  hesitated,  but  set 
off  at  once  on  his  errand.  The  big  gate  was  rather 


24  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

hard  to  open,  but  he  pushed  with  all  his  strength, 
and  then  it  came  open  with  a  bound.  He  could 
see  some  of  the  children  in  the  distance,  but  it  never 
struck  him  to  do  anything  else  but  just  what  his 
grandfather  told  him.  His  mother  had  always  wished 
him  to  do  as  she  told  him,  and  now  he  never 
thought  of  doing  anything  but  following  his  grand- 
father's directions.  It  was  a  little  formidable  to  go 
up  to  the  big  front-door  and  ring  the  bell,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  it  would  have  been  much  pleasanter  to 
go  and  speak  to  one  of  the  children. 

Mrs.  Cameron  was  in  the  hall  when  the  servant 
answered  Arthur's  summons,  and  looking  round,  she 
saw  his  straight  little  figure  standing  on  the  step  erect 
and  fearless,  asking  if  he  might  be  allowed  to  look  for 
his  ball.  Mrs.  Cameron  guessed  in  a  moment  who 
he  was,  and  came  forward  at  once. 

"  Have  you  lost  your  ball,  dear  ? "  she  asked, 
smiling  down  at  the  deep  blue  eyes  which  looked 
up  trustingly  to  her. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  so  sorry,"  Arthur  said  ;  "  it  was  so 
stupid  of  me.  But  grandpapa  said  I  might  come 
and  ask  if  you  would  let  me  look  for  it." 

"Yes,  certainly  you  may.  I  will  come  and  look 
too;  and  there  are  plenty  of  other  young  people  in 
the  garden  who  will  gladly  join  in  the  search.  I 
think  you  must  be  Mr.  Ferrers'  little  grandson  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;   I  am  Arthur  Ferrers." 


The  other  Side  of  the  Wall.  25 

"  We  are  quite  near  neighbours,  are  we  not  ? 
Perhaps  your  grandpapa  will  let  you  come  and 
play  with  my  children  sometimes.  They  will  be  very 
pleased  to  have  you.  Leslie — Hubert — come  here. 
This  is  little  Arthur  Ferrers.  He  has  lost  his  ball, 
and  I  want  you  to  try  and  find  it." 

Leslie  was  three  years  older  than  Arthur,  and 
Hubert  about  the  same  age,  but  they  were  a  great 
contrast  to  the  delicate-looking  Indian  boy.  They 
came  forward  flushed  and  happy  with  their  game, 
and  very  willingly  joined  in  searching  for  the  ball. 
It  was  Hubert's  sharp  eyes  that  caught  sight  of  it 
first,  and  then  Arthur,  with  grateful  thanks  to  his  new 
friends,  said  good-bye. 

"  Do  you  think  your  grandpapa  would  let  you  stay 
and  have  tea  with  my  boys  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cameron. 
"  Suppose  3rou  run  home  and  ask  him." 

"  Oh  !  may  I  ?  "  said  Arthur,  his  whole  face  lighting 
up  with  pleasure. 

"  Yes  ;  run  away  and  ask  him.  Tell  him  I  shall  be 
very  pleased  if  he  can  spare  you." 

Arthur  scarcely  stopped  to  hear  the  end,  but  ran 
home  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him. 


CHAPTER  III. 
CHRISTIE'S   CABIN. 

iRTHUR  was    scarcely   beyond    earshot    when 

Leslie  said — 

**&*»-  "What  a  bother  to  have  that  little  chap 

coming  !  Why,  he  looks  half  a  girl  with  those  curls  ; 
he  will  spoil  all  our  play.  Why  did  you  ask  him, 
mother  ?  " 

"  I  asked  him  because  I  think  he  is  sad  and  lonely, 
Leslie.  Poor  little  fellow  !  he  has  neither  father  nor 
mother,  and  old  Mr.  Ferrers'  house  must  be  very  dull 
for  him." 

"  He  looks  such  a  little  muff,"  said  Leslie  sullenly. 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  about  that,  Leslie.  The  boy 
looks  pale  and  thin,  and  it  is  certainly  time  he  lost 
those  bonny  curls,  but  if  I  mistake  not  he  has  a 
manly  little  heart." 

Leslie  darted  off  at  that  moment,  as  he  heard  Maude 
calling  him,  and  was  not  unwilling  to  make  his  escape, 
leaving  Hubert  alone  with  his  mother. 


Christie's  Cabin.  27 


"  How  very  hot  you  are,  Hubert !  Come  and  sit 
down  here  for  a  few  minutes  and  get  cool,"  Mrs. 
Cameron  said. 

"  Is  Arthur  quite  an  orphan  ?  "  asked  Hubert,  seat- 
ing himself. 

"Yes,  quite.  He  must  be  very  sad,  poor  little 
fellow  ! " 

Hubert  sat  thinking  a  little. 

"  Do  you  think  we  could  do  something  to  make 
him  happier,  mother  ?  "  he  asked  presently. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  do.  At  any  rate  I  think  we  should 
all  try." 

"  Would  that  be  trying  to  bear  one  another's 
burdens  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  would.  If  we  love  Christ,  we 
should  try  and  do  that  everywhere  and  anywhere 
we  can." 

"  Then  it  is  not  only  helping  poor  people  ?  " 

"  No ;  people  have  so  many  different  burdens. 
Some  have  poverty,  some  have  pain,  and  many  more 
have  sad  hearts." 

"  Arthur  must  have  a  very  sad  heart  if  he  has  no 
little  mother,"  said  Hubert,  nestling  a  little  closer  to 
Mrs.  Cameron. 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  he  must.  That  is  why  I  want  to 
try  and  comfort  him.  It  is  what  our  Lord  would 
do  if  He  were  here,  my  Hubert ;  and  you  want  to 
follow  Him,  don't  you  ?  " 


28  Old  Christies  Cabin. 

"  Yes,  mother,"  he  answered  in  a  low  voice. 

Presently  they  saw  Arthur  coming  back,  his  face 
flushed  with  running  and  beaming  with  pleasure. 

"  Grandpapa  says  he  thanks  you  very  much,  and 
he  is  very  pleased  for  me  to  come,"  he  said,  almost 
breathless. 

"  Oh,  well,  that  is  all  right,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron, 
rising.  "  Now  we  will  go  and  find  the  others. 
You  will  know  them  all  soon.  This  is  Hubert." 

"  I  knew  you  were  Hubert,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Did  you  ?  How  ever  did  you  know  that  ?  "  asked 
Hubert,  looking  astonished. 

"  Why,  I  heard  you  all  talking  on  the  other  side  of 
the  wall,  and  I  wanted  to  know  what  you  were  like. 
So  I  climbed  up  a  tree,  and  then  I  could  see  you, 
and  I  heard  you  calling  to  one  another." 

"  How  droll !  And  do  you  know  the  names  of  the 
others  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  am  not  quite  sure.  I  thought  you  were 
nearer  my  size  than  the  rest  of  them,  and  so  I 
wanted  to  know  your  name.  I  think  there  is  a  big 
fellow,  isn't  there  ?  " 

Hubert  nodded. 

"  And  you  call  him  Bernard,  don't  you  ?  I  re- 
membered that  because  it  was  the  name  of  Captain 
Riley's  big  dog." 

Hubert  laughed  heartily,  and  then  they  came  up 
to  the  others,  and  Mrs.  Cameron,  having  introduced 


Christie  s  Cabin.  29 

Arthur  to  the  rest  of  the  party,  left  them  to  have 
another  game.  They  soon  found  out  that  Arthur  was 
not  a  bad  playfellow.  He  entered  heart  and  soul 
into  the  game,  and  was  evidently  a  capital  runner. 
Dr.  Cameron  came  out  and  proposed  that  Leslie, 
Hubert,  and  Arthur  should  run  a  race  together.  Now, 
Leslie  prided  himself  in  his  running  powers,  and 
was  not  a  little  disconcerted  when  Arthur  came  in 
first  and  won  the  prize  of  a  new  threepenny-piece. 
In  his  heart  he  had  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  the  way 
in  which  he  had  spoken  of  Arthur,  and  now  it  was 
hard  to  be  outdone  by  the  small  boy  he  had  voted 
girlish.  He  said  nothing,  but  noted  inwardly  that 
the  stranger  was  not  such  a  muff  after  all. 

The  race  was  just  finished,  when  the  gong  sounded 
for  the  children's  five  o'clock  tea.  It  was  very 
unusual  for  Dr.  Cameron  to  be  home  so  early,  so 
the  children  pleaded  that  he  would  go  down  to  the 
river  with  them  and  have  a  row.  On  rare  occasions 
they  were  able  to  persuade  their  father  to  accompany 
them,  and  now  he  seemed  specially  willing.  Tea 
was  despatched  in  no  time,  and  then  the  party  set  off. 

The  nearest  way  to  the  river-side  was  through 
some  narrow  streets.  It  was  not  the  pleasantest  route, 
but  much  the  shortest.  It  brought  them  out  close 
to  old  Christie's  cottage,  or  cabin,  as  he  preferred  to 
call  it.  He  had  been  an  old  man-of-war's-man,  and 
since  he  had  been  unfit  for  active  service  he  had 


Old  Christie's  Cabin. 


lived  by  the  water-side,  and  during  the  summer 
months  had  helped  out  his  pension  by  letting  out 
a  couple  of  rowing-boats  for  hire. 

"  Well,  Christie,"  said  the  Doctor  with  his  cheery 
voice,  "  how  are  you  this  fine  day  ?  We  want  one 
of  your  boats.  These  young  people  would  not  give 
me  any  peace  till  I  brought  them  down  for  a  row." 

Old  Christie's  back  was  turned  towards  the  door 
as  the  Doctor  spoke.  He  usually  looked  up  brightly 
when  he  heard  the  voice  of  any  of  the  family.  Now 
he  only  turned  slightly  and  slowly  raised  his  head. 
Dr.  Cameron  saw  in  a  moment  that  something  was 
wrong.  Going  up  close  to  him,  he  kindly  laid  his 
hand  on  the  old  man's  shoulder. 

"  Is  something  the  matter,  Christie  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  sir,  it's  my  lad,  my  own  poor  laddie  ! "  he 
answered,  and  instead  of  the  clear  blue  eyes  looking 
up  straight  into  the  Doctor's  face  as  usual,  tears  came 
dropping  slowly  down  the  old  man's  cheek. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  trouble  ?  I  am  an  old 
friend,"  said  the  Doctor  soothingly. 

"  I  know,  sir,  I  know ;  but  it's  sore  trouble.  My 
Will  was  coming  down  one  of  them  high  ladders 
yesterday,  and  he  fell." 

"  Poor  fellow !  I  am  very  sorry.  Is  he  seriously 
hurt  ?  " 

"  They  took  him  straight  away  to  the  hospital,  sir. 
He  knew  what  they  were  a-doing  of,  and  asked  that 


Christie's  Cabin.  31 

his  wife  might  be  sent  for,  and  his  poor  old  father. 
Will  wouldn't  forget  me  even  there." 

"  And  did  you  go,  Christie  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Cameron* 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  did,"  the  old  man  answered,  as 
if  surprised  at  the  question. 

"  But  there  is  some  hope,  I  trust  ? "  asked  the 
Doctor. 

For  the  first  time  the  old  man  looked  up  with  his 
fearless  eyes. 

"  Hope,  sir.  Ah !  that's  where  it  is.  We  that  put 
our  trust  in  God  have  always  got  the  blessed  hope 
that  nobody  can  take  away  from  us.  Thank  God  my 
Will  has  got  that ;  he  hasn't  to  find  out  about  it  now. 
But  if  you  ask  me,  sir,  if  there's  hope  for  the  poor 
body  here,  I  can't  see  any.  They  were  mighty  kind 
up  at  the  hospital,  and  they  did  the  best  they  could 
to  cheer  me,  for  they  saw  as  I  was  a  bit  cut  up, 
but  old  Christie  needed  no  telling.  I've  been  with 
a-many  just  to  the  gate  of  heaven,  and  had  to  turn 
back  alone." 

"  Is  he  suffering  very  much  ?  " 

"  It's  terrible  suffering,  sir;  but  he  never  murmured. 
He  did  look  wistful-like  at  Mary,  though  ;  it  near  broke 
my  heart  to  see  him.  The  tears  ain't  wrong,  sir,  are 
they  ?  "  he  asked,  as  the  tears  would  come  rolling 
down  the  poor  worn  cheek  again. 

"  No,  not  wrong.  Our  Blessed  Saviour  did  not 
stand  at  Lazarus's  grave  and  permit  those  precious 


32  Old  Christies  Cabin. 

words  to  be  handed  down  to  us,  '  Jesus  wept/  with- 
out meaning  them  to  comfort  us  as  well  as  his 
sorrowing  sisters." 

"  But  you  wanted  the  boat,  sir.  I  mustn't  let  my 
troubles  keep  the  young  gentlemen  from  their  plea- 
sure," he  said,  rising. 

"  It  won't  do  them  any  harm  to  hear  of  the  sorrows 
of  others ;  I  don't  think  we  can  learn  too  early  to 
sympathise  with  suffering." 

"  Maybe  you're  right,  sir.  The  Master  was  always 
ready  to  give  love  and  sympathy  as  He  went  on  His 
way,  and  it's  a  blessed  thing  for  the  young  things  to 
try  and  follow  in  His  footprints." 

"  Don't  trouble  to  come  out  to-night,"  said  the 
Doctor ;  "  Master  Bernard  and  I  can  well  push  down 
the  boat  together." 

But  old  Christie  had  been  brought  up  in  the  wrong 
school  to  dream  of  shirking  a  duty,  so  he  said  at 
once — 

"  No,  sir,  I'll  come ;  it's  better  to  be  up  and  doing. 
Maybe  I'll  get  murmuring  if  I  sit  still  and  think." 


CHAPTER  IV. 
OLD  MR.  FERRERS. 

JHE  young  people  had  stood  round  silently 
listening  to  their  old  friend's  story.  Their 
joyous,  merry  laughter  was  hushed  as  they 
turned  towards  the  boat,  and  their  young  hearts  were 
full  of  sympathy  for  his  sorrow.  Willing  as  Christie 
was  to  push  down  the  boat  as  usual,  the  Doctor  soon 
saw  that  the  old  man  had  but  little  strength  that 
night  to  do  it.  He  was  preparing  to  step  in  at  the 
last,  and  had  taken  up  an  oar,  when  'Dr.  Cameron 
interposed. 

"  No,  not  to-night.  Master  Bernard  and  I  can  do 
very  well  without  you." 

The  old  man  handed  the  oar  to  Bernard  with  a 
"  Thank  you  kindly,  sir,"  and  stood  watching  the  boat 
as  it  slowly  glided  into  mid-stream. 

"  Poor  old  Christie  !  "  said  the  Doctor  presently  ; 
"  this  is  a  sore  trouble  for  him,  I  fear." 

"  Has  he  lost  somebody  he  loves  ?  "  asked  Arthur, 

33  c 


34  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

who,  being  a  stranger,  had  not  understood  all  that 
passed. 

"  His  son  has  fallen  from  a  ladder,"  said  Hubert, 
"  and  is  so  hurt  that  Christie  thinks  he  will  die." 

"  Has  Will  any  children  ?  "  asked  Bernard. 

"  Yes  ;  several.  I  fancy  there  is  quite  a  young 
baby.  I  dare  say  mother  knows  more  about  them 
than  we  do." 

They  chatted  on  some  little  time  longer  about  old 
Christie's  troubles,  and  then  a  diversion  came  in  the 
shape  of  a  little  steam-tug  that  was  swiftly  coming 
down  the  stream.  Arthur  got  quite  excited  as  he 
watched  the  various  little  boats  that  had  to  scramble, 
as  it  were,  out  of  the  way.  Dr.  Cameron  and  Bernard 
rested  on  their  oars  to  watch  it.  Then  came  a  large 
house-boat,  which  charmed  Arthur  exceedingly,  and 
Dr.  Cameron  saw  with  pleasure  that  the  too  grave 
expression  on  the  childish  face  passed  away. 

The  evening  was  so  lovely  that  they  were  all 
sorry  when  the  Doctor  said  it  was  time  to  turn  home- 
wards. As  it  was,  he  feared  that  he  would  be  late 
for  dinner ;  but  he  and  Bernard  put  on  speed,  and  the 
boat  went  swiftly  back  towards  the  spot  where  old 
Christie  sat  smoking  his  pipe  as  he  waited  for  them. 

"  I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  your  row,  young  gentle- 
men," he  asked,  as  the  boat  came  in. 

"  Oh  !  it  is  beautiful,  Christie,"  said  Leslie  ;  "  it  is 
really  too  bad  to  come  in  yet." 


Old  Mr.  Ferrers.  3  5 

"  Take  care,  sir,"  he  said  as  Arthur  stood  up  and 
jumped  nimbly  out.  "  You're  a  little  stranger,  sir,  I'm 
thinking." 

"  Yes  ;  he's  just  come  all  the  way  from  India,"  said 
Hubert,  speaking  for  him. 

"  You  don't  say  so,  sir !  You  must  come  and  have 
a  chat  with  old  Christie  one  of  these  days,  'cause  he's 
been  to  the  Indies." 

"Have  you?"  said  Arthur,  his  face  lighting  up 
with  the  smile  that  was  his  special  charm.  "  Oh, 
I  am  so  glad  !  May  I  really  come  and  talk  to  you 
some  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  I'll  be  real  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Good-night,  Christie,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  I  can- 
not help  hoping  you  may  have  some  better  news 
when  we  see  you  next." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  Not  the  better 
news  as  you're  thinking  of,  sir,  I  fear." 

The  children  were  full  of  old  Christie's  troubles 
when  they  reached  home,  and  poured  out  their  eager 
tale  to  their  mother  as  she  sat  on  the  lawn  waiting 
for  their  father. 

"  He  is  such  a  dear  old  man,"  said  Arthur,  when 
at  last  there  was  a  pause  in  the  conversation.  "  And, 
do  you  know,  he  has  been  to  India,  and  he  says  I  may 
go  and  talk  to  him.  Won't  it  be  nice  ?  " 

Mrs.  Cameron  smiled  down  on  the  eager  little  face, 
and  felt  glad  that,  for  a  few  hours  at  least,  she  and 


36  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

her  children  had  been  able  to  cheer  the  lonely  boy. 
Suddenly  he  seemed  to  remember  his  grandfather. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  go  home,  please.  My  grand- 
papa will  be  wanting  me." 

"  I  thought  perhaps  Mr.  Ferrers  would  send  for 
you  when  he  wished  you  to  go  home,"  said  Mrs. 
Cameron. 

For  one  moment  the  boy  hesitated.  He  had  been 
so  very,  very  happy  that  afternoon,  he  would  dearly 
like  to  stay  longer ;  but  the  thought  that  perhaps  his 
grandfather  wanted  him  made  him  decide  to  return 
at  once. 

Mrs.  Cameron  saw  the  decision  in  his  face. 

"  You  think  you  ought  to  go,  Arthur  ?  " 

"Yes,  please.  My  grandpapa  might  want  me, 
mightn't  he  ?  " 

"  I  would  go  at  once,  dear,  if  you  think  so.  You 
want  to  try  and  make  him  happy,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  then  I  don't  know  how.  You  see,  if 
mother  had  been  here,"  and  the  little  voice  got  very 
sorrowful  all  at  once,  "  she  would  have  told  me  what 
to  do." 

"  Do  you  know  there  is  some  One  else  who  will 
teach  you  what  to  do,  Arthur  ? "  They  were  quite 
alone  now;  the  others  had  run  off  to  finish  their 
lessons. 

The  boy  looked  up  into  her  face. 

"  Yes ;  we  have  one  great   Friend  who  is  always 


Old  Mr.  Ferrers.  37 

near  us,  and  who  knows  all  our  wants.  Do  you  know 
whom  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  the  Lord  Jesus  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  is  our  best  and  truest  Friend.  He  likes 
us  to  ask  Him  for  what  we  need ;  and  when  we  do 
not  know  what  to  do,  we  may  always  ask  Him,  for 
He  has  promised  to  teach  us." 

"  But  I  don't  see  Him,"  said  Arthur. 

"  God  has  promised  to  teach  us  by  His  Holy  Spirit, 
and  when  we  hear  a  little  voice  within  us  telling  us 
to  do  something  which  we  know  is  right,  we  may  be 
sure  that  it  is  God  teaching  us." 

"  Do  you  think  He  would  teach  me  how  to  please 
my  grandpapa  ?  because,  you  see,  he  is  such  an  old 
gentleman,  and  I  am  only  a  little  boy." 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  He  will  teach  you  if  you  ask  Him, 
because  He  has  promised,  and  God  always  does  what 
He  promises.  If  I  made  you  a  promise,  Arthur, 
you  would  believe  me,  would  you  not  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  boy,  looking  up  straight  into  her 
face. 

"  Then  you  must  trust  God's  promises  just  as  you 
would  trust  me.  You  know  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
dearly  loved  children  when  He  was  on  earth,  and  I 
am  quite  sure  He  loves  them  still." 

"  Then  I'll  ask  Him  to  teach  me  how  to  please 
my  grandpapa." 

"  Now  I  think  you  must  go,  Arthur.      Good-night." 


38  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  Good-night ; "  and  very  soon  the  nimble  little 
figure  was  out  of  the  garden,  and  Mrs.  Cameron  heard 
the  heavy  gates  of  Cannon  Lodge  slam  to,  which  told 
her  that  Arthur  had  reached  his  grandfather's. 

The  next  afternoon  Mrs.  Cameron  was  sitting  in 
the  drawing-room  writing  letters,  when  Mr.  Ferrers 
was  announced.  Though  they  had  been  near  neigh- 
bours for  many  years,  yet  they  had  spoken  to  each 
other  but  seldom.  Now,  as  the  old  gentleman  entered 
the  room  she  was  struck  to  see  how  bent  and  aged 
he  was  since  she  had  seen  him  last.  He  came  towards 
her,  however,  with  all  the  old  courtly  manner. 

"  I  wanted  to  thank  you  for  your  great  kindness  to 
my  little  grandson  yesterday ;  you  seem  to  have  made 
him  very  happy,"  Mr.  Ferrers  said. 

"  We  were  very  pleased  to  see  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Cameron  cordially.  "  I  hope  you  will  often  allow 
him  to  come  in  and  spend  a  few  hours  with  my 
children." 

"Thank  you;  it  is  indeed  very  good  of  you.  It 
will  make  a  pleasant  change  for  him ;  it  cannot  but  be 
dull  for  a  child  with  an  old  man  like  me. " 

"  He  was  most  anxious  not  to  stay  too  long  last 
evening ;  he  feared  you  might  want  him.  " 

"  Was  he  ?  "  said  Mr.  Ferrers,  a  pleased  look  pass- 
ing over  his  face.  "  I  should  not  have  supposed  that 
he  would  have  given  me  a  thought." 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  I  think  he  wants  to  make  you  happy." 


Old  Mr.  Ferrers.  39 

"  Happy  ?  Nobody  will  ever  do  that  now,"  said 
Mr.  Ferrers  bitterly. 

"  There  is  only  one  source  of  real  happiness,  Mr. 
Ferrers ;  we  find  as  we  grow  older  that  everything 
else  passes  away." 

Mr.  Ferrers  rose  uneasily  and  began  examining 
some  ferns  that  stood  in  the  window.  Mrs.  Cameron 
saw  in  a  moment  that  it  was  no  time  to  say  more, 
and  directed  his  attention  to  one  that  was  a  rare 
specimen.  After  a  little  while  he  was  tempted  to  sit 
down  again,  and  presently  the  conversation  turned 
once  more  on  Arthur.  Mrs.  Cameron  was  longing 
to  hear  what  plans  were  formed  for  his  future. 

"  Are  you  going  to  send  him  to  school  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Cameron,  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  the  child.  What  can  an  old  man  like 
me  do  with  a  little  boy  about  him  always  ?  " 

"  His  education  will  need  a  great  deal  of  thought." 

"Yes,  that's  just  it.  You  see,  if  his  mother  had  lived 
to  come  home  everything  would  have  been  different." 

Then  Mr.  Ferrers  broke  off  suddenly,  as  if  he  dared 
not  trust  himself  to  say  more.  Mrs.  Cameron  wished 
he  would  have  spoken  of  his  son,  for  she  believed 
it  would  have  comforted  him  a  little  to  talk  about  his 
sorrow.  But  he  abruptly  broke  off  the  conversation 
and  took  his  leave. 

Mrs.  Cameron  was  greatly  distressed  when  he  had 
gone.  Her  motherly  heart  yearned  over  the  lonely 


4O  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

little  boy,  and  she  wished  she  might  have  suggested 
some  plan  for  his  future.  But  the  opportunity  had 
come  and  gone,  she  thought,  and  perhaps  she  might 
never  have  another.  Dr.  Cameron  found  her  shortly 
afterwards  still  pondering  over  all  sorts  of  possible 
and  impossible  plans  for  Arthur's  future.  She  was 
very  glad  to  talk  them  over  with  her  husband.  Pre- 
sently a  bright  thought  struck  her. 

"  Why  should  not  Arthur  come  and  learn  with  our 
younger  children  for  the  present  ?  Hubert  would  find 
it  very  pleasant  to  have  a  companion.  I  am  sure 
it  would  be  better  than  sending  poor  little  Arthur 
straight  off  to  school." 

"  I  think  that  would  work  well,"  said  the  Doctor, 
"  if  old  Ferrers  would  agree." 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  and  suggest  it  to-night." 

"  Come,  come,  my  dear,  there  is  no  need  for  such 
haste.  It  will  be  better  for  you  to  sleep  over  your 
plan.  You  and  Mr.  Ferrers  are  not  royalties,  that 
you  may  make  your  return  visit  quite  so  speedily," 
said  the  Doctor,  laughing. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  wait  till  to-morrow." 

"You  and  I  have  changed  places  to-night,  my  dear,  I 
think.  I  am  generally  the  creature  of  impulse,  and  you 
the  sober  one  who  restrains  me  at  the  right  moment." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right ;  of  course  it  would  be  better  to 
wait  till  to-morrow,  but  you  don't  know  how  my  whole 
heart  goes  out  to  that  boy." 


CHAPTER  V. 
MRS.  CAMERON'S  VISIT. 

JHE  next  afternoon,  while  old  Mr.  Ferrers 
was  sitting  dozing  in  his  easy-chair,  he  was 
startled  by  Bailey's  entrance.  Being  a  little 
deaf  and  half-asleep  as  well,  he  very  partially  under- 
stood what  she  said,  and  he  was  not  a  little  surprised 
to  see  Mrs.  Cameron  following  her  into  the  room. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  disturbed  you,  Mr.  Ferrers," 
she  said  kindly,  and  inwardly  thinking  that  the  ser- 
vant might  have  taken  her  into  another  room  while 
she  prepared  the  old  gentleman  for  a  visitor.  He 
instantly  recovered  himself,  however,  and  with  his  old 
courtesy  begged  her  to  be  seated.  Now,  sitting  face 
to  face  with  him,  Mrs.  Cameron  found  it  rather  diffi- 
cult to  know  how  to  begin  the  subject  she  was  so 
eager  about.  Mr.  Ferrers  was  a  peculiar  man  and  a 
very  proud  man ;  he  might  not  easily  fall  in  with 
suggestions  from  other  people.  He  seemed  to  think 
something  special  must  have  brought  her,  and  after 

41 


42  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

the  first  exchange  of  usual  civilities  he  sat  waiting 
for  her  to  speak. 

"  I  have  come  to  speak  to  you  about  your  little 
grandson,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron. 

"  You  are  very  good,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers 
in  his  lofty  way,  "  to  take  so  much  interest  in 
him." 

"  From  what  you  said  yesterday  I  thought  you 
had  not  yet  decided  anything  about  his  education." 

"  No,  not  as  yet.  I  have  sent  this  morning  for  a 
prospectus  of  a  school  for  boys  in  the  neighbourhood, 
which  I  thought  might  answer  as  a  temporary  thing. 
By  the  autumn  I  may  see  my  way  better." 

"  Our  younger  children  are  being  educated  at 
present  by  a  lady  who  is  thoroughly  competent  to 
give  them  the  groundwork  of  a  good  education,  and 
I  came  to  ask  if  you  would  like  your  little  grandson 
to  join  them  in  their  lessons." 

"  This  is  really  very  kind  of  you,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers, 
more  warmly  than  he  had  yet  spoken.  "  Are  you 
sure  that  this  lady  would  be  willing  to  undertake 
another  pupil  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am  not  afraid  of  Miss  Moreton's  powers 
or  willingness,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "  She  is  particu- 
larly fond  of  boys,  and  would  be  sure  to  take  an 
interest  in  such  a  bright  little  fellow  as  Arthur." 

"  He  will  be  delighted  with  such  a  plan,"  said  Mr. 
Ferrers.  "  He  came  home  the  other  evening  full  of 


Mrs.  Cameron's  Visit.  43 

his  enjoyment.      I  am  really  most  grateful  to  you  for 
making  such  a  proposal." 

This  was  a  great  deal  for  old  Mr.  Ferrers  to  say. 
It  had  always  suited  him  best  to  confer  favours,  not 
to  accept  them  from  others.  But  the  fact  was,  the 
more  he  thought  of  his  little  grandson,  the  more  per- 
plexed he  was  to  know  what  to  do  with  him,  and  the 
more  he  felt  his  own  unfitness  for  the  task. 

"  It  is  always  well  for  children  to  have  the  society 
of  other  children,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron  ;  "  childhood 
can  only  come  once,  and  I  think  we  should  do  all 
we  can  to  make  it  happy.  A  happy  childhood  is  a 
precious  thing  to  look  back  upon  even  in  old  age." 

Mr.  Ferrers  gave  one  of  his  peculiar  smiles,  that 
were  by  no  means  pleasant  to  look  at. 

"  I  was  going  to  say  I  had  no  childhood,"  he  said. 
"  The  greatest  kindness  I  had  was  from  an  old  nurse 
who  was  devoted  to  me.  The  pleasures  I  had — and 
they  were  not  many — were  mostly  stolen  ones.  With 
my  own  boy  it  was  different ;  he  was  blessed  with  a 
good  mother.  I  was  in  India  for  some  years,  but 
her  health  imperatively  demanded  her  residence  in 
England,  and  this  ensured  the  boy's  happiness.  1 
fancy  little  Arthur  is  like  his  father  in  many  ways, 
though  he  has  his  mother's  eyes.  This  is  a  likeness 
of  her,"  he  said,  rising  and  taking  a  photograph  off 
the  table.  Another  photograph  stood  beside  it,  which 
Mrs.  Cameron  readily  guessed  was  a  portrait  of  his 


44  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

son ;    but  he  did   not    offer  to  show  that,   and  Mrs. 
Cameron  thought  it  wiser  not  to  speak  of  it. 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  a  little  head 
appeared. 

"  Oh  grandpapa !  just  see  what  that  naughty, 
wicked  cat  has  done  ! "  Then  the  speaker  stopped 
suddenly,  seeing  that  there  was  a  visitor.  Mrs. 
Cameron  had  her  back  towards  him,  so  for  the 
moment  he  did  not  recognise  her. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Arthur  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ferrers. 
"  Come  in  quietly ;  did  you  not  see  that  I  had  a 
visitor  ?  " 

"  No,  grandpapa,  I  did  not  know."  Then  he 
quickly  recognised  his  friend,  and  bounded  up  to 
Mrs.  Cameron,  carefully  holding  something  with  both 
his  small  hands. 

"  Oh  !  Mrs.  Cameron,  look  here,"  he  said,  feeling 
sure  of  her  ready  sympathy. 

He  opened  his  fingers  a  little,  and  disclosed  a 
young  thrush,  that  was  panting  with  fright. 

"Whatever  have  you  got  there?"  asked  Mr. 
Ferrers. 

"  A  poor  little  bird,  grandpapa,  and  that  horrid  cat 
had  got  it  in  her  mouth,  and  the  little  thing  was 
squeaking  so  that  I  made  puss  give  it  up.  Markham 
says  it  doesn't  matter,"  he  added  indignantly. 

"  Poor  little  bird  !  it  is  frightened,"  said  Mrs. 
Cameron.  "  I  wonder  if  it  is  much  hurt.  Perhaps 


Mrs.  Cameron's  Visit.  45 

if  we  were  to  nurse  it  and  take  care  of  it,  it  would 
recover." 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  ?  Oh  !  do  let  us  try,"  said 
Arthur  eagerly. 

"If  your  grandpapa  will  allow  you  to  come  home 
with  me,  we  will  see  what  we  can  do  for  it." 

"  May  I,  grandpapa  ?  " 

"  Yes.     But  I  want  to  tell  you  something  first." 
Arthur    looked    rather    impatient.       He    felt   the 
prisoner   throbbing    in   his   hand,    and   could   hardly 
bear  to  wait  to  hear  what  his  grandfather  had  to  say, 
and  Mr.  Ferrers  spoke  so  leisurely. 

"  Mrs.  Cameron  has  come  this  afternoon  to  make 
a  most  kind  proposal  respecting  you.  She  has 
suggested  your  joining  her  younger  children  in  their 
lessons  every  day.  You  will  like  that  much  better 
than  going  to  school,  won't  you  ?  " 

Arthur  had  a  joyous  way  of  clapping  his  hands 
when  very  much  delighted,  and  now  the  poor  little 
bird  was  nearly  dropped  in  his  eagerness.  He  was 
obliged  to  give  vent  to  his  joy  in  some  other  way,  and 
began  dancing  about,  much  to  the  amusement  of  Mrs. 
Cameron  and  his  grandfather. 

"  Oh !  it  is  very,  very  kind,"  he  said  stopping 
at  last  and  kissing  Mrs.  Cameron  and  Mr.  Ferrers. 
"  And  shall  I  see  Hubert  every  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  every  day.     I  think  you  will  be  good  friends." 

"  I  am  sure  we  shall.     And    now,  Mrs.  Cameron, 


46  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

will  you  come  and  see  after  this  poor  birdie  ?  "  he 
said,  remembering  the  poor  little  sufferer. 

Mrs.  Cameron  took  her  leave,  and  Arthur  followed 
her,  still  carefully  holding  the  wounded  bird  in  his 
hands. 

Gladys  and  Hubert  were  just  released  from  the 
schoolroom,  and  were  soon  as  much  interested  in  the 
invalid  thrush  as  Arthur. 

"  I  think  it  is  really  more  frightened  than  hurt, 
after  all,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron  as  they  watched  it 
shaking  out  its  feathers.  Hubert  had  fetched  a  cage, 
in  which  they  had  put  some  water  and  sopped  bread. 
It  was  a  long  time,  however,  before  it  attempted  to 
touch  the  food. 

"  I  wish  it  was  mine,"  said  Hubert.  "  Where  will 
you  keep  it,  Arthur  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  wonder  if  Markham  will  let  me 
have  it  in  my  room.  I  don't  believe  she  will,  for  she 
did  not  mind  one  bit  when  she  saw  the  cat  had  got  it. 
She  said  it  did  not  matter ;  but  it  did  matter,  didn't  it, 
Mrs.  Cameron  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear ;  it  always  matters  if  anything  God  has 
created  is  suffering." 

"  She  said  it  was  the  nature  of  cats  to  eat  birds." 

"Well,  so  it  is.  You  could  not  blame  the  cat  for 
it ;  but  still  it  was  far  kinder  for  you  to  rescue  the 
poor  little  bird,  as  you  were  able.  Your  cat  would  not 
be]  hungry,-  and  could  well  do  without  it.  Now  this 


Mrs.  Cameron's  Visit.  47 

little  thrush  will  probably  gladden  us  with  his  beau- 
tiful note  next  spring.  I  think,  Arthur,  the  kindest 
thing  would  be  to  take  it  back  to  the  lawn  where  you 
found  it  and  set  it  free.  I  think  it  would  be  quite 
able  to  fly  now  it  has  got  over  its  fright." 

"  Do  you  really  think  it  would  be  kinder  ?  "  asked 
Arthur,  looking  a  little  disappointed. 

"  Yes ;  this  bird  will  be  much  happier  flying  freely 
about  from  tree  to  tree  than  in  a  cage.  Don't  you 
think  so  ?  " 

"  Then  let  us  go  and  set  it  free,"  he  said,  evidently 
with  an  effort.  "  You  will  come  with  us,  won't  you  ?  " 
he  said,  taking  Mrs.  Cameron's  hand. 

"Yes,  I  will  come  too." 

So  the  little  party  adjourned  to  Mr.  Ferrers'  garden, 
and  stood  some  distance  off  while  Mrs.  Cameron  put 
the  cage  on  the  lawn  and  gently  opened  the  door. 
In  less  than  a  minute  the  prisoner  had  hopped  out, 
and  after  looking  about  him  for  a  little  while  as  if 
to  gain  confidence,  he  spread  his  wings  and  flew  off 
to  the  nearest  tree. 

"  He  will  be  happier,  won't  he  ?  "  asked  Arthur. 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  much  happier  ;  and  you  will  be 
happier  too  for  doing  a  kindness  for  even  a  little 
bird." 


CHAPTER  VI. 
WILL'S  HOME. 

great  distance  from  the  British  Museum  are 
streets  inhabited  by  many  of  the  artisan  and 
working  class.  One  large  pile  of  buildings 
is  a  huge  lodging-house,  where  under  one  common 
roof  dwell  many  families.  On  the  second  floor  of  this 
building  Will  Somers  had  made  his  home.  Rents 
are  high  in  London,  and  though  he  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  have  his  own  little  cottage  farther  out  of 
London,  still,  for  many  reasons,  he  decided  that  this 
was  a  good  and  central  neighbourhood  in  which 
to  live.  He  never  lost  his  love  for  the  country, 
and  every  Bank  Holiday  saw  him,  with  his  wife 
and  children,  making  his  way  towards  the  green 
fields. 

He  had  been  employed  for  some  years  by  one 
large  firm  of  builders,  and  had  gained  the  respect 
not  only  of  his  masters,  but  of  the  men  among  whom 
he  worked. 

48 


Will's  Home.  49 


"  It's  no  use  your  trying  to  tempt  Will  to  a  glass," 
some  of  the  men  would  say.  "  You  might  as  well  try 
to  turn  the  sea." 

The  men,  too,  would  be  more  careful  of  their  speech 
if  he  were  within  earshot.  Even  the  most  reckless 
were  scarcely  heedless  of  his  rebuke  if  an  oath  were 
uttered  in  his  hearing.  He  little  thought  that  bright 
June  morning,  when  he  had  gone  out  to  his  work  as 
usual,  that  he  would  never  return  to  that  home  again. 
His  wife  remembered  afterwards  that  he  had  come 
back  to  give  her  a  second  kiss  that  day.  He  had 
often  said  that  he  should  be  sorry  to  leave  his  wife  in 
anger,  as  some  of  the  men  did,  for  who  could  tell  that 
they  should  ever  meet  again  ? 

It  was  well  for  Will  that  he  had  not  to  seek  a 
Saviour  when  the  blow  came,  for  pain  and  suffering 
made  it  hard  to  think.  He  whispered  to  his  wife,  as 
she  sat  beside  him,  after  they  had  fetched  her  to  the 
hospital — 

"  I  am  glad  we  both  settled  it  long  ago,  Mary.  It 
is  hard  to  part,  but  we  know  it  will  only  be  for  a  little 
while." 

Old  Christie  had  been  right.  There  was  no  hope 
from  the  first,  as  far  as  the  poor  body  was  concerned, 
but  there  was  still  the  blessed  hope  that  nothing  could 
take  away.  When  all  was  over  they  brought  him 
back  to  his  home,  and  if  anything  of  human  sympathy 
could  comfort  Mary  in  her  deep  sorrow,  it  must  have 


50  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

been  the  kindness  and  respect  that  was  shown  on  the 
day  of  the  funeral.  Most  of  the  men  that  were  work- 
ing with  him  at  the  time  of  his  death  expressed  a 
desire  to  follow  his  body  to  the  grave,  and  when  the 
day  came  this  number  was  increased  by  many  who  had 
known  Will  in  former  years.  Their  sympathy,  too,  took 
a  substantial  form,  in  the  shape  of  a  subscription  among 
the  men,  and  the  poor  widow  was  deeply  touched  by 
the  way  in  which  it  was  given.  It  was  not,  however, 
till  the  sad  week  was  quite  gone,  and  the  usual  round 
of  every-day  life  began  again,  that  Mary  fully  realised 
her  great  sorrow.  The  money  so  kindly  collected  by 
her  husband's  mates,  and  the  sum  she  received  from 
the  club  in  which  he  had  entered  before  he  married 
her,  was  sufficient  to  supply  her  needs  for  the  imme- 
diate present.  But  the  no  distant  future  had  to  be 
faced,  when  her  four  children  would  only  have  their 
mother  to  look  to  for  their  daily  bread.  How  was  it 
to  be  got  ? — that  was  the  question. 

One  morning  she  set  off  early  to  talk  things  over 
with  old  Christie.  She  had  always  been  a  favourite 
with  Will's  father,  and  knew  that  he  would  advise 
her  if  he  could.  The  old  man  was  sitting  smoking 
his  pipe  at  the  doorway  of  his  cabin  when  she 
appeared,  attired  in  her  simple  widow's  dress,  and 
carrying  her  young  baby  in  her  arms. 

"  Come  in,  my  dear,  come  in  ! "  Christie  said 
kindly,  placing  a  chair  for  her  out  of  the  hot  sun. 


Will's  Home.  51 


"You're  tired,  I  dare  say,  and  the  baby's  getting 
heavy.  Isn't  he  a  fine  fellow,  though  ?  " 

Christie  tried  his  best  to  speak  cheerily ;  he  was 
going  to  keep  up  for  her  sake.  But  it  was  no  use ; 
their  common  sorrow  would  well  up  at  the  sight 
of  one  another,  and  for  a  few  minutes  they  cried 
together. 

Mary  was  the  first  to  try  and  speak.  The  baby 
gave  a  little  cry,  and  this  helped  her  to  grow 
calm. 

"  Yes,  he  does  grow  a  fine  fellow,  doesn't  he  ? 
Bless  him,  he  is  a  comfort,"  she  said,  bending  down 
and  kissing  the  soft  cheek. 

"  I  thought  as  whether  you  might  come  and  see 
me  to-day,  Mary ;  it's  very  good  of  you  to  think 
of  me." 

"  Why,  father "  (Mary  had  called  him  father  from 
her  wedding-day),  "  who  should  come  and  see  you  if 
your  daughter  did  not  ?  Besides,  mine  is  a  selfish 
visit  to-day ;  I  longed  to  see  my  Will's  father.  I 
thought  it  would  comfort  me  to  hear  your  voice,  it 
was  always  so  much  like  his ;  and  I  want  to  talk 
things  over.  You  see,  I  must  be  thinking  of  the 
future ;  it  won't  do  for  me  to  sit  down  and  think 
work  will  come  to  me." 

This  was  almost  too  much  for  Christie.  His  son 
had  been  one  of  those  honest  working-men  who  was 
never  happier  than  when  he  was  providing  for  the 


5  2  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

home.  Now  all  that  was  past,  and,  as  Mary  said, 
she  must  be  bread-winner  and  mother  too. 

"  You  see,  the  rents  are  so  high  round  about  where 
we  live  that  it  would  swallow  up  so  much,  and  we 
have  lived  so  quietly  to  ourselves  that  I  don't  know 
any  of  the  gentry  who  perhaps  would  give  me  work." 

"  There's  a  lot  to  think  of,  isn't  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  indeed ;  and  moving  would  be 
expensive.  I  should  be  loth  to  part  with  the  things 
that  Will  laid  store  by." 

"You  mustn't  do  anything  in  a  hurry.  Don't  you 
mind  how  it  speaks  over  and  over  again  in  the  Bible 
of  waiting  upon  God  ?  Ain't  there  some  words  some- 
thing like  these,  'They  that  wait  on  the  Lord  shall 
not  make  haste '  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  '  He  that  believeth  shall  not  make 
haste/ "  said  Mary.  "  Will  and  I  were  reading  it 
only  the  other  Sunday ;  it  is  in  the  twenty-eighth 
chapter  of  Isaiah." 

"  Ah  !  that's  just  it,  '  He  that  believeth.'  The  way's 
very  dark,  very  dark,  but  we  have  God's  promises  to 
help  us,  and  we've  just  got  to  believe  Him." 

The  baby  had  gone  to  sleep,  so  Mary  laid  him 
gently  down  in  a  big  easy-chair,  and  then  busied 
herself  in  preparing  dinner. 

"  It's  not  much  use  getting  food  for  me,  my  dear," 
he  said ;  "  I  have  not  been  able  to  eat  anything  the 
last  week ;  everything  seems  to  choke  me." 


Will's  Home.  53 


"  I  hope  you  will  try  and  eat  something  to-day," 
she  said  cheerily.  "  See,  I  bought  a  little  fish  coming 
along.  I  thought  maybe  you'd  fancy  it  if  I  cooked  it 
for  you." 

"  Ah  !  you  remembered  one  of  my  fancies,"  said 
old  Christie,  smiling ;  and  then  he  sat  and  watched 
her  busy  movements  as  she  set  about  her  work. 

When  at  last  „  the  meal  was  ready,  it  was  so 
tempting  that  Christie  found  it  did  not  choke  him, 
and  Mary  managed  to  eat  a  little  to  keep  him 
company. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
BIRDIE. 

FEW  days  after  Mary's  visit  to  old  Christie, 
she  was  sitting  sewing,  with  her  baby  on 
her  knee,  listening  sadly  to  the  many  sounds 
that  came  up  from  the  street  below.  An  organ  was 
droning  out  "  The  Lost  Chord "  at  one  end,  while  a 
noisy  brass  band  was  filling  the  air  with  discordant 
sounds  no  great  distance  away.  The  heat  was  great, 
and  every  one  had  their  window  open,  so  that  the 
laughter  and  crying  of  children  were  all  intermixed 
in  the  general  din.  She  was  roused  by  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  wondering  who  it  might  be,  went  to  open  it. 
It  was  Jim  Norton,  an  old  mate  of  Will's,  who  had 
come  with  his  wife  to  ask  how  she  was  getting  on. 

"  You  are  hot  here,"  said  Mrs.  Norton,  fanning 
herself;  "there  does  not  seem  to  be  a  breath  of  air. 
It's  much  cooler  out  our  way." 

"  It  is  very  hot,"  assented  Mary.  "  Come  nearer  the 
window.  You  see,  you  have  been  walking." 

54 


Birdie.  55 

"  Yes.  It's  a  good  climb  up  these  stairs,  too ;  I 
shouldn't  want  to  go  up  and  down  very  often." 

Mary  had  never  seen  Mrs.  Norton  before,  though 
she  had  once  or  twice  seen  her  husband.  She  knew 
that  he  was  a  kind-hearted  man,  that  Will  had  said 
was  always  ready  to  do  anybody  a  good  turn.  Beyond 
that  the  two  men  had  little  in  common,  for  Jim  neither 
read  his  Bible  nor  honoured  the  Sabbath.  Jim  had 
been  sadly  cut  up  when  he  heard  of  Will's  sudden 
death.  He  could  not  get  his  widow  out  of  his  thoughts, 
and  so  he  had  persuaded  his  wife  to  come  with  him 
to  inquire  how  she  was  getting  on.  Unfortunately, 
his  wife  talked  the  most,  and  did  not  give  Jim  much 
opportunity  of  putting  in  a  word. 

"We  thought  we  should  like  to  know  how  you 
were  getting  on,  Mrs.  Somers ;  we've  been  downright 
sorry  for  you  and  no  mistake.  As  to  my  man  there, 
he  does  nought  but  talk  of  you." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  murmured  Mary. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  doing  ?  "  went  on  Mrs. 
Norton.  "  I  suppose  you  must  get  some  work  of 
some  sort.  What  can  you  do  ?  " 

Mrs.  Norton  was  a  business-like  woman,  and  she 
meant  business  now.  Hers  was  not  all  talk.  If  she 
could  help  this  poor  widow  she  would  gladly  do  it. 

"  I  can  do  most  things  with  my  needle,  and  I  can 
work  a  sewing-machine." 

"  Ah  !  that's  good.     A  woman's  never  quite  shiftless 


56  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

when  she  can  use  a  needle ;  that's  what  I'm  always 
telling  my  girls.  But,  dear  me,  the  girls  now  want 
to  be  young  ladies  and  go  about  dressed  up.  As  I 
tell  'em,  at  any  rate  if  they  want  to  wear  fine  clothes 
they  should  learn  how  to  make  'em." 

"  I  hope  my  girls  will  never  want  to  dress  up  like 
that,"  said  Mrs.  Somers,  looking  down  at  her  sleeping 
baby. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  any  work  ? "  asked  Jim, 
bringing  the  conversation  back  to  the  subject  that 
interested  him. 

"  No,  indeed,  I  have  not,"  said  Mary.  "  Perhaps 
I've  been  faint-hearted,  but  I  did  not  feel  as  if  I  could 
begin  to  look  for  any  just  at  first." 

"  I  don't  wonder,"  he  said  kindly. 

"The  rents  are  very  dear  here,  but  it  would  be 
nearer  any  work  I  could  get  than  if  I  went  farther 
out  of  London.  I  am  going  to  move  a  storey  higher 
up  on  Saturday ;  the  higher  you  go  the  cheaper  the 
rooms,  you  see." 

"  If  you  think  you  would  like  to  work  at  a  mantle- 
factory,"  said  Jim,  "  I  have  a  friend  who,  I  believe, 
would  introduce  me  to  a  manager." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  of  any  work  where  I 
should  be  likely  to  get  a  living  for  my  children,"  said 
poor  Mary. 

"  It's  dreadful  poor  pay  at  them  factories,  Jim," 
said  his  wife. 


Birdie.  5  7 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is ;  but  then  you  want  work,  and 
you  want  it  pretty  sharp,  don't  you  ?  You  see,  I 
shouldn't  advise  you  to  wait  till  you're  near  come  to 
your  last  few  shillings  before  you  try  to  get  work. 
You'll  be  glad  to  have  something  to  fall  back  upon  a 
little  later  maybe.  The  hardest  pinch  is  not  always 
just  at  first,"  said  practical  Jim. 

"  I  should  be  very  grateful  if  you'd  speak  for  me," 
said  Mary. 

"  That  I  will,  right  gladly,"  answered  Jim  heartily. 
"  I'll  see  the  manager  to-morrow  if  possible,  and  may- 
be he'll  put  you  in  on  Monday.  You'd  be  ready,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Mary,  her  heart  inwardly  sinking 
at  the  thought  of  the  work  before  her,  and  yet  not 
daring  to  turn  it  away.  "  I'm  sure  it's  very  kind  of 
you,  Mr.  Norton,  to  take  so  much  trouble  for  me." 

"  He  that's  gone  would  have  done  anything  for 
me  and  mine,"  he  answered.  "  I  think  a  lot  of  his 
words  now.  I  only  wish  I  was  a  bit  like  him. 
Somers  was  a  good  man,  if  ever  there  was  one.  His 
religion  was  not  talking  but  doing.  There  wasn't  a 
fellow  as  worked  nigh  him  but  soon  saw  what  stuff 
he  was  made  of." 

"  I  think  it  is  getting  late,  Jim,"  said  Mrs.  Norton, 
who  did  not  appreciate  the  turn  the  conversation  had 
taken  ;  "  we  must  be  going." 

So,  with  promises  on  Jim's  side  to  see  about  the 


58  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

work  as  promptly  as  he  could,  and  grateful  thanks  on 
Mary's,  the  husband  and  wife  took  their  leave. 

"  She  don't  seem  so  broken-down  as  1  should 
have  expected,"  said  Mrs.  Norton  as  they  regained 
the  street. 

"  Ah,  wife  !  I  tell  you  them  two  possess  something 
that  you  and  I  know  nought  about.  You  and  I  can 
get  along  well  enough  when  it's  all  fair  weather,  but 
let  something  go  wrong,  we've  nothing  to  back  us  up." 

"  Some  don't  seem  to  have  as  much  feeling  as 
others,"  said  Mrs.  Norton  sharply. 

"  It's  not  that,  wife.  They  can  afford  to  meet  life's 
troubles  bravely,  because  they  believe  they've  some- 
thing sure  beyond.  You  and  I  live  as  if  we  believed 
this  life  would  last  for  ever." 

Just  then  the  omnibus  they  wanted  came  up,  and 
there  was  no  more  talk  between  the  husband  and 
wife.  But  Jim  was  full  of  thought ;  he  could  not 
forget  the  young  widow  with  her  baby;  it  grieved  his 
manly  heart  to  think  of  the  hard  struggle  that  lay 
before  her. 

True  to  his  word,  he  sought  the  manager  the  next 
day,  and  pleaded  so  hard,  that  at  last  he  consented 
to  find  a  place  for  the  new  hand,  on  the  following 
Monday.  He  wrote  accordingly  to  Mary,  telling  her 
the  work  was  there  for  her  if  she  chose  to  take  it. 
The  hours  would  be  half-past  eight  to  six  ;  the  pay, 
nine  shillings  a  week  and  her  food. 


Birdie.  59 

Grateful  as  Mary  felt  for  Jim  Norton's  kindness, 
still  she  shed  a  good  many  tears  over  the  letter. 
She  had  been  so  full  of  her  loss  that  she  had  scarcely 
faced  all  the  hard  facts  that  work  meant.  As  she 
looked  at  her  young  baby,  and  felt  she  must  trust 
him,  as  well  as  the  three  other  children,  to  a  stranger's 
care,  she  felt  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  was 
brave,  though,  in  the  midst  of  it  all.  As  Jim  said, 
she  possessed  something  that  helped  her  to  meet 
life's  battles.  She  knew  that  a  loving  God  was 
behind  them  all. 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  week,  so  she  had  still 
some  days  to  consider  who  would  be  willing  and 
suitable  to  look  after  her  children  during  her  absence. 
She  thought  over  all  her  neighbours,  but  dismissed 
one  after  another  from  her  mind.  But  suddenly  she 
remembered  a  woman  who  lived  on  the  upper  floor, 
whose  husband  was  employed  at  a  distance,  and  was 
out  all  day. 

She  had  always  seemed  a  quiet,  kind  woman,  not 
a  gossip  like  most  around  her.  Mary  had  often 
noticed  how  very  poor  she  was,  in  spite  of  her  husband 
being  in  constant  work.  This  made  her  think  that 
perhaps  she  would  be  willing  to  earn  a  little  sum 
weekly  by  taking  care  of  her  children.  The  more  she 
thought  it  over  the  more  she  felt  drawn  towards  Mrs. 
Morgan.  She  had  never  Nbeen  inside  her  room,  but 
she  knew  that  she  had  often  seen  her  going  to  church 


60  Old  Christie1  s  Cabin. 

on  Sunday  evening  with  a  little  girl  by  her  side. 
The  next  morning  she  determined  to  pay  her  a  visit, 
and  after  taking  a  look  round,  broach  the  subject  of 
her  children,  if  it  seemed  wise  to  do  so.  As  she 
stood  outside  the  door  she  heard  a  childish  voice 
sweetly  singing,  and  stopped  a  moment  to  listen. 
On  knocking,  the  same  child  -  voice  called  out, 
"  Come  in." 

At  first  Mary  wondered  where  the  voice  came  from 
as  she  entered,  but  she  soon  saw  a  little  figure  sitting 
in  one  corner,  holding  in  her  arms,  very  lovingly, 
what  had  once  been  a  doll,  but  now  only  looked  like 
the  ghost  of  one. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  child,  not  attempting  to 
move. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Somers,"  said  Mary.  "  Is  Mrs.  Morgan 
at  home  ?  " 

"  She  will  be  here  almost  directly,"  said  the  child. 
"  She  has  only  gone  out  a  minute  to  buy  something 
for  dinner.  Did  you  want  to  see  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  If  you  don't  mind,  I  should  like  to 
wait  a  little  while,  if  you  do  not  think  she  will  be 
long." 

"  Oh  no ;  and  I  like  to  have  any  one  come,  if  their 
voice  sounds  kind,  and  yours  does,"  said  the  child. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Somers.  "  Are 
you  the  little  girl  I  see  on  Sunday  evening,  some- 
times, going  to  church  with  your  mother  ?  " 


Birdie.  6 1 

"  Yes ;  I  like  that  best  of  all  the  week,"  said  the 
child,  her  face  lighting  up  with  pleasure.  "  I  could 
listen  to  the  organ  all  day.  Mother  says  I'm  always 
singing.  I  was  singing  when  you  came  in." 

"  Yes  ;  I  heard  you  as  I  stood  at  the  door.  What 
is  your  name  ?  You  have  not  told  me  yet." 

"  Mother  calls  me  Birdie,  because  I'm  always  sing- 
ing, but  my  real  name  is  Fanny.  I  like  Birdie  best ; 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  do." 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  Mrs.  Morgan  en- 
tered. She  looked  astonished  to  see  a  stranger, 
but  said  quickly — 

"  It's  Mrs.  Somers,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mary ;  "  I  wanted  to  see  you.  Your 
little  girl  told  me  you  would  not  be  long,  so  I  waited." 
Then  she  hesitated,  hardly  knowing  what  to  say  next. 

"  We  are  going  to  be  very  near  neighbours,  Mrs. 
Morgan,  after  Saturday,"  she  said,  recovering  herself. 
"  I  can't  afford  to  keep  on  the  rooms  I've  had  lower 
down,  and  so  I  have  taken  the  ones  next  to  yours,  as 
they'll  be  cheaper." 

"  Yes ;  it  was  a  sad  piece  of  work  losing  your 
husband ;  and  he  was  a  good  one,  too,"  said  Mrs. 
Morgan. 

"You  see,  I  shall  have  to  be  bread-winner  now," 
said  Mary,  with   a   great  effort.      "  I   have  heard    of 
some  work,   but  it  will  take  me  out  all  day,  and  I 


62  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

shall  be  obliged  to  leave  my  children.  I  have  been 
thinking  over  who  I  could  leave  them  with,  and  I 
just  thought  perhaps  you  might  be  willing  to  mind 
them  while  I  am  away." 

"  Whatever  made  you  think  of  me  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Morgan,  looking  greatly  astonished. 

"  I  think  God  told  me,"  said  Mary  simply. 

Birdie  had  jumped  up  now  and  taken  both  her 
mother's  hands  in  hers. 

"  Oh  mother,  do  say  '  yes '  ! "  she  cried  eagerly. 
"  Fancy  how  happy  I  shall  be  with  some  children  to 
play  with  ! " 

Mary  had  looked  round  the  room,  and  had  taken 
the  poverty  in  at  a  glance.  It  was  not  difficult  to 
find  the  reason.  Morgan  was  helping  the  publicans 
to  wealth,  and  making  himself  poorer  every  day. 
Mary  noted,  however,  that  everything  was  scrupu- 
lously clean  in  spite  of  the  poverty. 

"You  think  the  children  would  make  you  very 
happy,  Birdie  ? "  her  mother  asked,  her  worn  face 
brightening  up  a  little  at  her  child's  gladness. 

"Yes,  mother,  ever  so  happy.  Is  there  a  little 
girl  like  me  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  her  face  towards 
Mary. 

"  My  little  girl  is  younger  than  you  are,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  think  you  would  play  happily  together.  My 
boy  Harry  is  eight,  but  Polly  is  only  six.  How  old 
are  you,  Birdie  ?  " 


Birdie.  63 

"  I  am  ten,  but  mother  says  I  am  such  a  little  dot." 

"  Yes,  poor  darling !  and  not  much  wonder.  You 
see,  she  gets  very  little  fresh  air,  as  she  can't  go  out 
without  me." 

Mary  looked  up  inquiringly,  as  if  she  wondered 
why. 

"  You  know  my  Birdie  is  blind,  don't  you  ?  "  she 
said. 

"  No,  indeed  I  did  not.  No  stranger  would 
dream  that  those  bright  eyes  are  sightless." 

"  It's  even  so,"  said  Mrs.  Morgan  sadly  ;  "  but  with 
it  all,  my  Birdie  is  the  brightest,  merriest  little  one 
that  mother  ever  had." 

"  Dear  little  Birdie  !  "  said  Mary  tenderly.  "  I 
should  be  very  glad  if  my  children  could  do  any- 
thing to  make  her  happier." 

Mary  went  downstairs  to  her  own  room  with  her 
heart  much  lightened.  She  felt  very  sure  that  God 
had  guided  her  to  a  kind,  motherly  woman,  who 
would  care  for  her  children,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
weekly  money  would  lighten  this  poor  woman's  heavy 
burden,  and  she  hoped  the  children  would  gladden 
little  Birdie's  heart. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
BIRDIE  GOES  TOIREGENT'S  PARK. 

the  following  Saturday  Mary  moved  to  her 
new  quarters.  It  was  well  for  her  that  she 
was  so  busy  that  she  could  not  sit  still  and 
think,  for  it  cost  her  many  a  pang'to  leave  the  rooms 
where  she  had  been  so  happy.  The  children  were 
delighted  with  the  bustle,  and  thought  the  general 
confusion  capital  fun.  Not  in  the  least  realising 
what  it  would  be  to  have  mother  out  day  after  day, 
they  eagerly  longed  for  Monday  morning,  when  they 
were  to  see  Birdie.  On  the  Sunday  evening  she 
gathered  them  round  her  and  tried  to  explain  things 
to  them  a  little.  Harry  listened  thoughtfully.  At 
last  he  said — 

"  Mother,  I  wish  I  was  big,  and  then  I'd  work  for 
you,  that  I  would." 

"  I  am  sure  you  would,  my  boy ;  but  now  I  want 
to  tell  you  how  you  can  serve  me  best.  You  know 
how  good  father  was,  don't  you  ?  " 

64 


Birdie  goes  to  Regent's  Park.  65 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy  in  a  grave  voice. 

"  I  want  you  to  grow  up  like  him,  Harry,  and 
never  bring  shame  on  your  father's  name.  He 
asked  God  to  help  him  every  day,  that  made  him 
so  good  and  brave,  and  I  want  you  to  do  the 
same.  The  men  often  used  to  laugh  at  him,  and  try 
to  tempt  him  to  do  wrong  things,  but  he  was  able  to 
say  '  No,'  because  he  knew  that  God  would  help  him 
if  he  asked  Him.  Boys  will  tempt  you  to  do  many 
wrong  things,  Harry,  but  you  will  never  be  brave 
and  strong  as  father  was  without  you  ask  for  the 
same  strength  as  he  did.  It's  a  grand  thing  for  a  boy 
to  be  able  to  say  '  No '  at  the  right  time.  Mrs. 
Morgan  will  have  your  dinner  ready  for  you  every 
day  when  you  come  in  from  school,  and  I  want  you 
to  be  kind  and  thoughtful,  and  take  care  of  your 
little  sisters.  You  see  you  can  help  me  in  many 
ways  now,  my  boy,  without  waiting  till  you  are  a 
man." 

Early  the  next  morning  the  family  was  astir,  but 
Mary  found  that,  with  all  her  efforts,  she  had  none  too 
much  time  to  get  everything  ready  before  she  must 
set  off  for  her  work.  She  had  a  long  walk  before  she 
could  reach  the  factory.  There  were  omnibuses,  it 
was  true,  that  would  have  taken  her,  but  how  could 
she  afford  to  spend  even  twopence  on  coach-hire? 
Happily  the  morning  was  fine  and  the  fresh  air 
invigorating,  so  that  she  reached  her  destination  by 


66  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

the  appointed  hour.  As  she  saw  the  scores  of 
women  crowding  into  the  factory  her  heart  almost 
failed  her.  The  loud  laughter,  the  rough,  rude  jokes, 
fell  jarringly  upon  her  ear,  but  the  thought  of  her 
children  and  their  daily  bread  nerved  her  on,  and  she 
pushed  her  way  in  like  the  rest.  A  sharp,  business- 
like manager  scanned  her  face,  and  saw  in  a  moment 
that  she  was  a  new-comer.  He  asked  her  a  few 
short,  curt  questions,  then  portioned  out  her  work, 
reminding  her  that  there  could  be  no  idling  in  the 
establishment. 

Mary  took  her  place  with  the  rest,  glancing  round 
as  she  did  so  at  the  strange-looking  women  around 
her — some  so  young  and  bold-looking,  many  more 
with  sad  and  weary  faces. 

Mary  thought  it  was  the  longest  day  that  she  had 
ever  spent ;  but  six  o'clock  came  at  last,  and  she  was 
free  to  set  off  homewards.  She  was  very  anxious  to 
know  how  her  children  had  fared  during  her  absence. 

They  had  got  on  as  well  as  could  be  expected 
on  the  first  day,  and  had  plenty  to  tell  their  mother 
about  Birdie. 

"  Mother,"  said  Harry,  "I  do  know  the  way  to 
Regent's  Park,  don't  I  ?  'cause  Mrs.  Morgan  says  she 
thinks  she  would  trust  Birdie  to  me  and  Polly.  Poor 
Birdie  has  never  been." 

"Yes,  I  think  you  know  your  way  there  quite 
well ;  and  if  Mrs.  Morgan  is  willing,  I  dare  say  Birdie 


Birdie  goes  to  Regent's  Park.  67 

would  enjoy  it.      Poor  little  child  !  she  can  get  very 
little  change." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Polly ;  "  it  is  so  sad  to  think 
she  cannot  see  anything,  not  even  the  beautiful  sky, 
and  yet  she  is  so  happy." 

A  few  days  after  this,  Harry,  true  to  his  word,  set 
out  for  Regent's  Park  with  his  little  sister  and  Birdie. 
It  was  touching  to  see  the  care  he  took  of  the  blind 
child,  warning  her  of  the  curbstones,  and  guiding  her 
away  from  the  lamp-posts.  Birdie  was  always  a 
little  nervous  in  the  streets.  The  din  sounded  great 
in  her  quick  ears,  and  she  started  when  a  vehicle 
passed  more  swiftly  than  usual.  But  with  Harry  on 
one  side  and  Polly  on  the  other,  she  trudged  along, 
and  no  one  passing  her  would  have  said  that  she  was 
blind. 

At  last  the  little  trio  reached  the  Park,  and  Harry, 
in  his  eagerness  that  Birdie  should  enjoy  it,  almost 
forgot  that  she  was  blind. 

"  Now,  isn't  it  beautiful,  Birdie  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  What's  it  like,  Harry  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Tell  me 
all  about  it." 

"Oh  !  I  wish  you  could  see,  Birdie.  I  forgot  you 
couldn't ;  but  I'll  try  and  tell  you  all  about  it.  Here, 
let's  go  down  by  the  water,  and  then  we'll  sit  down 
under  the  trees." 

"  Now,  Birdie,  isn't  this  nice  ?  "  he  asked,  as  the 
three  seated  themselves. 


68  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

11  Yes,  this  is  fine,"  she  said  contentedly,  for  though 
she  could  not  see  the  water  and  the  luxuriant  trees, 
she  was  conscious  of  the  sweet  air  and  the  song  of 
the  birds  and  the  countless  pleasant  summer  sounds. 

"There  are  ducks  on  the  water,  Birdie,  all  sorts 
of  different  colours.  I  wish  we  had  some  buns  to 
give  them.  When  father  brought  us  here  one  day 
he  bought  some  buns,  and  it  was  such  fun  throwing 
pieces  for  them  to  dive  for." 

Alas,  poor  Harry  !  he  had  no  father  to  buy  buns  for 
him  now.  He  sat  and  watched  some  other  children 
who  were  throwing  them  food,  and  so  vividly  described 
it  all  that  Birdie  seemed  to  understand  it,  and  clapped 
her  hands  with  joyousness. 

"  You  are  a  kind,  good  boy,"  she  said  at  last,  "  to 
bring  poor  Birdie  here.  I  am  so  happy — oh !  so  happy. 
You  will  bring  me  here  again,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  hope  so,"  said  Harry,  pleased  at  his  first 
attempt  at  taking  Birdie  out.  "  I  wonder  what  time 
it  is,  and  whether  we  ought  to  be  going  home,"  he 
said  presently.  He  was  feeling  very  important  that 
day  as  the  protector  of  the  two  little  girls,  and  now 
decided  that  it  was  time  to  turn  homewards.  They 
had  stayed  much  longer  than  they  thought,  and  found 
that  their  'mother  had  already  returned,  and  was 
anxiously  looking  for  them. 

So  several  weeks  passed  on.  The  longest  day  was 
over,  and  the  London  streets  seemed  hot  and  dusty. 


Birdie  goes  to  Regent's  Park.  69 

Mary  had  trudged  backwards  and  forwards  to  her 
work  uncomplainingly,  and  except  that  the  baby  did 
not  thrive  as  when  he  had  his  mother's  constant  care, 
all  had  gone  well  with  the  children.  But  an  un- 
expected disappointment  awaited  her.  Work  was 
getting  slack,  and  she  heard  it  whispered  among 
the  hands  that  many  would  be  discharged  until  the 
autumn  brought  more  work  again.  Mary  listened, 
and  wondered  what  she  would  do  if  she  were  one 
that  the  manager  dismissed.  Then  sweet  promises 
of  her  never-failing  God  came  back  to  her,  promises 
especially  for  the  widow  and  the  fatherless,  and  once 
again  she  staid  herself  upon  Him,  and  went  on  with 
a  brave  heart. 

But  the  women  had  been  quite  right  in  their  con- 
jectures, and  one  Monday  morning  Mary  was  told 
that  her  services  would  not  be  required  after  that 
week.  She  went  home  with  a  sad  heart  that  day. 
It  had  been  unusually  hot,  and  she  was  very  tired. 
How  she  longed  for  the  voice  that  was  still,  and  the 
step  that  could  never  be  heard  again  !  Yet  she  shrank 
from  letting  old  Christie  know  her  trouble.  He  had 
such  a  tender  heart,  that  she  hoped  to  have  some 
fresh  work  before  he  could  hear  anything  about  it. 


CHAPTER    IX. 
MAKING  TEA. 

JRS.  CAMERON  had  been  to  see  her  children's 
old  friend  more  than  once  since  she  had 
heard  of  his  great  sorrow.  It  grieved  her 
to  see  his  usually  bright  face  looking  so  sorrowful, 
and  his  once  erect  figure  getting  more  bent  with  age. 
From  time  to  time  she  sent  him  something  to  tempt 
his  appetite,  and  Maude  and  Hubert  were  ever  ready 
to  be  her  messengers.  Very  often  Arthur  went  with 
them,  for  the  boy  delighted  in  listening  to  the  old  man's 
stories,  and  anything  about  India  had  a  double  charm. 
One  day  the  three  children  had  gone  to  the  cabin, 
and  found  the  old  man  more  sad  than  usual.  He 
had  none  of  his  bright  stories  to  tell,  and  they  stood 
looking  at  him  wistfully,  longing  to  do  something  for 
him,  and  yet  not  knowing  what.  They  had  opened 
their  basket,  and  laid  on  the  table  a  tempting-look- 
ing dish  of  fish.  But  the  old  man  shook  his  head 
sorrowfully. 

70 


Making  Tea.  71 


"  It's  very  kind,  my  dears,  but  old  Christie  can't 
eat  it  to-day." 

"  But,  Christie,  what  can  you  eat  ?  "  asked  Maude 
anxiously.  "  You  will  starve  if  you  go  on  like  this. 
What  can  we  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Missie.  Perhaps  I'll  be  better 
to-morrow.  Maybe  I'll  take  a  cup  o'  tea  presently. 
Mrs.  Brown  said  as  she'd  look  in  as  she  came  from 
work,  and  I  dare  say  she'll  make  me  some." 

"  But  that  will  be  a  long  time  to  wait,"  said  Maude. 
"  Let  us  make  you  some ;  I  am  sure  we  could." 

"  No,  Missie  ;  it's  real  kind  of  you  to  say  so,  but 
indeed  I  couldn't  let  you  do  that." 

"  Why  not,  Christie  ?  I  am  sure  we  could.  Just 
let  us  try ;  please,  do." 

"  Why,  my  little  lady  !  the  fire's  out,  and  there's 
no  water  till  it's  fetched  from  the  pump." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  said  Hubert,  joining  in.  "  Why,  I 
will  light  the  fire,  Christie ;  just  see  if  I  don't  ;  and 
Arthur  can  fetch  the  water.  Maude  can  make  the  tea, 
because  she  is  a  girl." 

The  old  man  could  not  help  smiling  at  his  eager- 
ness, but  still  he  objected. 

"  It's  very  good  of  you,  dear  children,"  said  old 
Christie,  "  but  fancy  what  the  good  lady  would  say 
when  she  heard  you  had  been  lighting  an  old  man's 
fire.  Nay,  young  sir,  it's  not  fitting  for  gentlefolks 
like  you." 


72  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  Why,  Christie,  do  you  mean  mother  ?  "  said 
Maude,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  Missie.  Whom  should  I  mean  but  the  good 
lady  ?  " 

"  Why,  Christie,  she'd  just  be  as  pleased  as  could 
be  for  us  to  help  you  a  little  if  we  could.  Mother 
always  says,  if  we  want  to  be  like  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  we  must  try  and  be  kind  to  one  another." 

"Well,  my  dears,"  said  Christie,  holding  out  no 
longer,  "  the  dear  lady  is  quite  right.  The  Lord 
Jesus  was  always  doing  kind  actions  while  He  was 
on  earth,  and  if  we  love  Him,  we  shall  try  to  be  a 
little  like  Him." 

"  Then  you  will  let  us  make  the  tea,  Christie, 
won't  you  ?  "  said  Hubert. 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  and  may  God  bless  you  all  for 
caring  for  an  old  man  like  me." 

"You  must  tell  us  where  to  find  the  wood  and 
some  coal,"  said  Hubert.  "  Come  along,  Arthur ;  let 
us  set  to  work." 

"  You'll  find  it  all  in  yonder  cupboard,  sir,"  said 
Christie. 

"  Oh !  I  remember,  of  course,"  said  Hubert.  "  Now, 
Arthur,  you  take  the  wood,  while  I  bring  some  coal." 

As  Christie  watched  the  little  workers  his  face 
looked  less  sad,  and  he  was  quite  interested  in  their 
efforts.  Hubert  was  almost  putting  the  coal  in  first, 
when  Maude  stopped  him. 


Making  Tea.  73 

"  Why,  Hubert,  that  won't  do ;  you  must  rake  out 
the  cinders  first,  or  the  fire  will  never  burn." 

"  All  right ;  then  here  goes,"  and  Hubert  began 
vigorously  clearing  out  the  bottom  of  the  grate  with 
the  poker. 

"  Now  you  must  put  some  paper  first.  I  think  I 
have  some  in  my  pocket.  Haven't  you  a  piece,  too, 
Hubert  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  have,  somewhere,"  he  said, 
diving  first  into  one  pocket  and  then  another,  till  he 
produced  it. 

"  Now,  then,  put  the  wood,"  said  Maude  wisely. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Hubert.  "  I've  seen  Ellen 
do  it  scores  of  times.  Here,  Arthur,  take  the  kettle ; 
you  were  to  fetch  the  water,  were  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I'll  get  the  water,"  said  Arthur,  taking  up 
the  very  sooty-looking  kettle. 

It  is  hard  to  tell  what  the  respectable  Markham's 
feelings  would  have  been  could  she  have  seen  her 
young  gentleman  at  that  moment,  his  small  hands 
holding  the  kettle,  and  his  eyes  sparkling  with  plea- 
sure as  he  made  his  way  towards  the  pump.  He  no 
longer  wore  the  long  curls  that  had  been  his  mother's 
pride,  but  had  made  Leslie  call  him  "  girlish,"  when  he 
first  came.  Still,  no  brush  would  ever  quite  tame  his 
somewhat  unruly  locks.  When  he  reached  the  pump 
a  difficulty  met  him.  How  could  he  hold  the  kettle 
and  pump  at  the  same  time  ?  After  several  attempts 


74  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

to  hook  on  the  kettle,  he  decided  to  pump  several 
times  very  quickly,  and  then  put  the  kettle  under  in 
time  to  catch  the  water.  This  plan  answered  very 
well,  and  before  the  fire  had  burnt  up  much  he  was 
back  with  his  kettle  of  water.  His  face  was  flushed 
when  he  got  back,  for  the  pump-handle  was  hard  and 
stiff  for  the  small  hands  that  tried  to  work  it. 

The  children  watched  the  fire  as  it  burnt  up 
brightly,  and  soon  Maude  said  she  thought  they 
might  venture  to  put  on  the  kettle.  There  is  an  old 
saying,  "  that  watch  pot  never  boils,"  and  so  the 
children  thought.  Never  had  kettle  seemed  so  long 
before  doing  its  duty.  But  at  last  there  was  no 
mistake  about  it.  There  was  the  steam  coming  out 
of  the  spout  in  right  proper  fashion,  and  then  Maude's 
work  began  as  tea-maker.  While  it  was  brewing 
she  made  a  nice  piece  of  toast,  and  then  the  meal 
was  ready. 

If  the  children  wanted  any  reward,  they  certainly 
had  it  richly  in  old  Christie's  evident  enjoyment. 
He  drank  his  tea  and  ate  his  toast  as  much  as  they 
could  desire,  and  was  even  tempted  with  a  small 
piece  of  the  fish  that  Mrs.  Cameron  had  sent. 

The  old  man  looked  quite  different  before  they 
left.  Doubtless  the  food  had  refreshed  him  ;  but,  still 
more,  his  sad  heart  had  been  cheered  and  comforted 
by  the  loving  care  of  the  three  children. 

On    their    return    home    they    soon    sought    Mrs. 


Making  Tea.  75 


Cameron,  and  told  her  how  poorly  they  had  found 
old  Christie.  She  was  glad  they  had  been  able  to 
do  something  for  him,  and  promised  to  go  and  see 
him  herself  the  next  day,  if  possible. 

Mrs.  Cameron's  was  a  busy  life.  In  spite  of  her 
large  household  she  still  found  time  to  brighten  a 
good  many  hearts  outside  her  home.  So  the  next 
day  found  her  on  the  way  to  Christie's  cabin.  She 
was  grieved  to  see  how  changed  he  was,  though 
he  brightened  up  at  the  sight  of  her,  and  was 
warm  in  his  praises  of  the  children's  goodness 
to  him. 

"  I  was  afraid  as  you'd  be  vexed,  Ma'am,"  he  said, 
"  for  it  seemed  such  a  thing  for  the  young  gentlefolks 
to  be  waiting  on  an  old  man  like  me." 

"  No,  indeed,  Christie ;  I  was  very  pleased  that 
they  should  be  able  to  do  any  little  thing  for  you. 
I  should  be  grieved  for  them  to  grow  up  selfish,  as 
many  young  people  do,  as  if  they  had  nothing  to  live 
for  but  their  own  pleasure.  Besides,  you  must  not 
think  the  kindness  was  all  on  their  side ;  you  don't 
know  how  pleased  they  were  to  help  you.  They  came 
home  as  happy  as  birds." 

"  Bless  them  ! "  said  the  old  man.  "  I  shall  never 
forget  seeing  them  light  that  'ere  fire ;  and  then  Master 
Arthur,  he  fetched  the  kettle  of  water ;  and  the  young 
Missie,  she  made  the  tea.  Why,  I  might  have  been 
a  prince,"  said  Christie  proudly. 


76  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

"  Now  tell  me  a  little  about  yourself.  I  am  so  sorry 
to  see  you  looking  so  weak  and  poorly." 

"  I  do  feel  as  if  I  were  near  done  for,  Ma'am,  and 
it  would  be  very  nice  to  be  going  Home." 

"  Have  you  something  fresh  troubling  you  just 
now  ?  " 

Christie  looked  up  into  her  face. 

"  What  made  you  think  that,  Ma'am  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  something  made  me  think  it  might  be  so," 
she  said,  smiling ;  "  and  sometimes  it  is  a  comfort  to 
talk  a  trouble  over  with  a  friend." 

"  Ah  !  yes,  Ma'am,  that's  true ;  but  there's  nothing 
like  telling  it  all  out  to  the  Lord.  I've  always  got 
Him  when  there's  no  one  else." 

"  Have  you  heard  of  Mary  and  the  children  ?  "  Mrs. 
Cameron  asked,  feeling  that,  whatever  was  the  old 
man's  trouble,  she  must  leave  him  to  tell  her  or  not 
as  he  felt  inclined. 

"  No,  Ma'am,  I  haven't  heard  a  word  of  her,  and 
the  time  seems  long  without  tidings.  I'm  afeared  she's 
having  a  hard  struggle.  I  sometimes  wish  as  she 
was  nearer,  that  she  might  look  in  upon  me." 

"  Yes,  I  wish  she  was ;  but,  of  course,  while  she 
has  work  in  the  City  it  is  most  necessary  that  she 
should  live  as  near  to  it  as  possible." 

"  Oh  yes,  Ma'am,  that's  true.  Mrs.  Brown's  give 
me  notice  to  leave.  I'll  be  very  lonesome  when  she's 
gone." 


Making  Tea.  77 

This  enlightened  Mrs.  Cameron  a  little.  No  doubt 
this  was  no  small  trouble  to  the  old  man.  His  cottage 
was  a  poor  tumble-down  place,  but  it  had  more 
room  in  it  than  any  one  would  suppose.  Mrs.  Brown 
was  a  widow  who,  with  her  daughter,  had  gladly  lived 
in  two  of  the  dilapidated  rooms,  for  which  she  paid 
the  sum  of  one  shilling  and  sixpence  a  week.  Cir- 
cumstances had  made  her  decide  to  leave  London 
and  go  back  to  the  county  to  which  she  belonged. 
And  so  old  Christie  was  to  lose  his  tenant  and  his 
small  weekly  rent.  He  could  hardly  hope  that  any 
one  would  take  the  rooms  again  in  such  a  condition. 
And  he  had  no  money  to  spare  to  renovate  them  and 
make  them  more  fit  for  habitation. 

Mrs.  Cameron  saw  the  difficulty  at  once,  and  well 
knew  that  old  Christie  would  not  only  miss  the 
weekly  money,  but  perhaps  even  more  the  many 
kind,  neighbourly  acts  that  Mrs.  Brown  was  wont  to 
do  for  him.  She  left  the  cottage  feeling  so  concerned 
about  the  old  man's  future,  that  she  decided  to  write 
to  his  daughter-in-law  and  ask  her  to  come  and  see 
him,  if  possible. 


CHAPTER  X. 
HUBERT'S  PLAN. 

received  Mrs.  Cameron's  letter  on  the 
Friday  evening,  the  night  before  her  last 
day  at  the  factory.  She  was  feeling  very 
down-hearted,  wondering  where  she  was  to  look  for 
work,  and  this  seemed  a  fresh  trouble.  Then  she 
thought  of  Jacob,  and  remembered  how  he  thought 
everything  was  against  him,  when  God  was  really 
making  all  things  work  together  for  his  good.  Was 
not  her  God  the  God  of  Jacob  ?  And  had  He  not 
the  same  power  still  ?  She  determined  that  if  she 
should  be  let  off  early  from  work  the  next  day,  as 
seemed  highly  probable,  she  would  go  and  see  her 
father-in-law.  She  feared  he  was  very  poorly,  and  she 
knew  nothing  would  cheer  him  so  much  as  seeing  her. 
The  next  day  she  found  there  was  little  or  no  work 
to  be  had,  and  there  was  ample  time  for  her  to  go  to 
old  Christie's  and  get  back  before  dusk.  She  was 
well  repaid  by  his  warm  welcome.  He  had  never 

78 


Hubert's  Plan.  79 


seemed  more  truly  glad  to  see  her.  At  first  they 
neither  of  them  told  of  their  new  troubles,  not  liking 
to  give  the  other  pain ;  but  after  Mary  had  told  every- 
thing she  could  think  of  about  the  children,  Christie 
naturally  asked  how  her  work  was  getting  on. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  has  come  to  an  end  to-day, 
father,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Come  to  an  end,  Mary  ?  "  he  said. 
"Yes,   father;   I   am  sorry  to  say  it  has,  and  as 
yet  I  have  not  been  able  to  hear  of  any  more." 

"They  do  say  as  troubles  don't  come  alone,"  said 
Christie.     "  I've  a  trouble  too.     Mrs.  Brown's  leaving 
';  me.      She's  been  here  a  good  many  years,  and  it  will 
seem  lonesome  with  the  old  place  quite  empty." 
Just  then  a  small  figure  appeared  at  the  door. 
"  Oh  Christie  !   I've  run  so  fast.      I   said   I  would 
get  here  first,  and  so  I  have." 

"This  is  Master  Arthur,  Mary.  The  dear  young 
people  are  so  good  to  me,  the  very  sight  of  their  bright 
faces  cheers  me  up.  Well,  Master  Arthur,  and  what 
may  you  be  wanting  this  afternoon  ?  The  boat,  I  ex- 
pect. I  thought  as  some  of  you  would  be  sure  to  be 
down  ;  the  river's  as  tempting  as  can  be." 

Here  Hubert  appeared.  "  What  do  you  think, 
Christie  ?  Father's  coming  down  this  afternoon,  and 
mother  too.  Isn't  it  fine  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  arid  I  hope  you  will  all  enjoy  it 
greatly." 


8o  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

Mrs.  Cameron  soon  came  in  sight,  with  the  Doctor 
and  Bernard.  While  they  were  busy  getting  out  the 
boat  she  went  into  the  cabin  and  had  a  chat  with 
Mary,  and  soon  drew  from  her  the  news  that  she  had 
no  more  work. 

"  Mother,  please  come,"  shouted  Hubert.  "  Here, 
Arthur,  go  and  tell  her  we  are  all  waiting." 

When  they  were  settled  in  the  boat  Mrs.  Cameron 
told  them  about  Mary. 

"  Mother,  why  can't  she  come  and  live  in  Mrs. 
Brown's  rooms  ?  "  said  Hubert. 

"  Oh  Hubert !  they  are  so  dirty  and  dilapidated ; 
the  paper  is  all  off  the  walls,  and  the  ceiling  so  black  you 
would  never  dream  that  it  had  ever  been  white.  She 
would  be  quite  offended  to  be  asked  to  live  in  such 
a  place." 

"  But  why  couldn't  it  be  done  up  ? "  suggested 
Bernard. 

"The  landlord  is  a  close-fisted  man,  that  won't 
spend  a  penny  on  the  place,  and  certainly  Christie 
cannot  do  it,"  said  Dr.  Cameron. 

"  The  rooms  would  not  be  so  bad,  I  believe,"  said 
Mrs.  Cameron,  "  if  they  were  only  done  up  and  kept 
clean.  Though  Christie  is  so  partial  to  Mrs.  Brown,  she 
is  really  very  dirty." 

"  I  think  the  old  man  is  beginning  to  need  some 
one  to  look  after  him,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  He  has 
certainly  aged  very  much  since  last  summer.  It 


Huberts  Plan.  81 


would  be  a  great  comfort  for  him  to  have  his  daughter- 
in-law  near  him." 

Arthur  had  been  silently  listening  to  the  conver- 
sation, with  his  hand  dabbling  in  the  water,  and 
apparently  intent  on  a  small  toy  boat  he  had  in  tow. 
Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  asked  "  if  it  would  cost 
very  much  to  do  up  Christie's  rooms.  Would  it  cost 
more  than  a  whole  sovereign,  Mrs.  Cameron  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear ;  I  am  afraid  it  would  cost  a  good  deal 
more  than  that." 

Arthur  looked  very  disappointed. 

"  Why  do  you  ask,  Arthur  ? "  seeing  he  looked 
really  troubled.  The  pale  face  got  very  red  all  over. 

"  Grandpapa  gave  me  a  whole  sovereign  the  other 
day  when  I  was  eight  years  old.  I  have  been  going 
to  spend  it  on  lots  of  things,  but  I'd  like  to  make 
Christie's  rooms  nice." 

"  It  is  a  kind  thought,  Arthur,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron. 
"  A  whole  sovereign  would  do  a  good  deal,  but  I  am 
.afraid  it  would  cost  more  to  do  all  that  is  needed." 

"  Why  can't  we  all  help,  mother  ? "  said  Bernard. 
"  I  am  sure  we  could  whitewash  the  ceiling  and  paper 
the  walls  ourselves  ;  and  if  Arthur  would  really  like  to 
spend  his  sovereign,  I  should  think  it  would  stop  all 
the  bad  places  on  the  roof." 

"  It  would  make  Christie  very  happy,  I  believe.  But 
while  we  are  making  all  these  nice  little  plans,  what 
is  Mary  to  do  without  work  ?  " 


82  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

The  young  faces  all  fell  at  this  thought. 

"  Can't  you  give  her  needlework,  mother  ? "  said 
Hubert. 

"  I  dare  say  I  could"  said  Mrs.  Cameron,  smiling, 
as  she  thought  of  the  pile  of  stockings  at  home  and 
the  many  new  garments  that  were  continually  being 
wanted  ;  "  but  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  possibly  afford 
to  keep  her  in  work,  however  pleasant  it  would 
be  to  provide  for  her  and  have  my  work  done 
for  me." 

"  Oh  dear ! "  said  Arthur ;  "  and  we  thought  we 
had  got  such  a  lovely  plan." 

"We  must  think  it  all  over,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron. 
"  You  see,  we  have  never  thought  of  trying  to  get 
work  for  Mary  in  this  neighbourhood.  Perhaps  it 
might  be  possible  if  we  set  about  it.  If  she  is  not 
gone  home  when  we  go  back,  I  will  have  a  talk  with 
•her  and  see  what  she  says  to  it." 

When  they  returned  to  the  cabin  they  found  Mary 
still  there ;  so,  telling  the  others  to  go  on  home,  Mrs. 
Cameron  stayed  behind  to  have  her  talk. 

"  I  had  never  thought  even  of  trying  for  work  in 
this  neighbourhood,"  she  said  after  hearing  what  Mrs. 
Cameron  had  to  say.  "  Certainly  father  does  sadly 
need  some  one  to  look  after  him ;  I  can't  bear  to  think 
of  his  shifting  for  himself.  I'm  afraid  he  eats  next 
to  nothing." 

"  The  rooms  are  in  a  sad  state,  I  know,"  said  Mrs. 


"  Grandpapa,  I  want  to  ask  you  something." — Page.  86. 


Hubert's  Plan. 


Cameron,  "  but  still  they  can  be  cleaned  and  made  fit 
for  habitation." 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  it  all  for  me, 
Ma'am,"  said  Mary. 

"  Well,  I  must  not  claim  it  as  my  plan  ;  it  was  the 
young  people  who  thought  of  it  first,  and  proposed 
doing  up  the  rooms  for  you." 

"  Bless  their  young  hearts  !  "  said  Christie,  chiming 
in,  "  it  beats  me  altogether  how  they  ever  think 
of  all  the  kind  things.  It's  always  when  they  come 
in,  '  Now,  Christie,  isn't  there  something  we  can  do 
for  you  ? '  and  really,  now,  they  do  look  quite  disap- 
pointed when  I  say  there  isn't  anything.  I  only 
wish,  Ma'am,  as  you  could  'ave  seen  them  mak- 
ing the  tea  the  other  day.  I  shall  never  forget 
them." 

"  There  is  a  lady  whom  I  know  slightly,"  said 
Mrs.  Cameron,  "who  takes  a  great  interest  in  the 
employment  of  women.  I  will  endeavour  to  see  her 
to-morrow,  and  if  she  can  suggest  anything  I  will 
let  you  know." 

So  Mary  returned  to  her  children  that  night  with 
a  cheered  heart,  feeling  sure  that  God  was  once 
more  fulfilling  His  promise  of  caring  for  the  fatherless 
and  widow. 

The  same  evening  little  Arthur  Ferrers  was 
sitting  with  his  grandfather  in  the  library,  watching 
him  as  he  turned  over  the  leaves  of  his  book,  and 


86  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

wondering  when  he  would  shut  it  up  and  say,  as  he 
generally  did — 

"  Well,  Arthur,  what  are  you  up  to  ?  " 
It  seemed  to  Arthur  that  night  as  if  he  were  much 
longer  than  usual,  and  the  little  fellow  had  something 
he  very  much  wanted  to  say.  At  last  the  book  was 
shut  up,  and  the  spectacles  carefully  taken  off  and 
put  in  their  case.  Arthur  was  in  such  a  hurry  that 
he  did  not  wait  for  his  grandfather  to  begin  that 
night,  but  going  close  up  to  him,  he  put  his  small 
hand  on  his  knee  and  said — 

"  Grandpapa,  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 
"  Do  you  ?     Why,  what  is  the  matter.      Have  you 
broken   your    clockwork    engine,    or    been    offending 
old  Markham  ?  "  the  old  gentleman  asked. 

"  No,  grandpapa ;  it  is  not  either.  The  engine  is 
a  beauty,  and  I  do  try  to  take  great  care  of  it ;  and 
Markham  said  I  had  not  got  in  such  a  mess  to-day. 
I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about  my  birthday  present." 
"  Why,  I  gave  you  one,  didn't  I  ?  "  said  Mr.  Ferrers 
quickly. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  you  did — a  bright  new  sovereign." 
"  Ah !   I  remember ;  and  you  were  going  to  buy  a 
bat,  and  a  watch,  and  a  walking  bear,  and  a  musical- 
box,  and  I  don't  know  what  else  with  it." 

"  Yes,  grandpapa,  I  know  I  was ;  but  I  want  to  do 
something  else  with  it  now ;  only  I  should  like  to  ask 
you  about  it  first." 


Hubert's  Plan.  87 


"  Well,  what  is  it  now  ?  I  think  your  sovereign  is 
going  to  do  a  great  deal." 

"  You  know  old  Christie,  grandpapa  ?  " 

"  Old  Christie  ?     Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  you  know  whom  I  mean  ;  our  dear  old  boat- 
man, who  tells  me  such  jolly  stories  about  India,  and 
storms  and  battles,  and  all  sorts  of  things." 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course  ;  I  have  heard  you  talk  of  him, 
but  I  did  not  remember  his  name.  He  lost  his  son, 
didn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  just  it ;  and  now  he  is  getting  old  and 
he  is  ever  so  lonely,  and  an  old  woman  and  her  daughter 
who  have  been  living  in  two  of  his  rooms  are  going 
away.  It's  such  a  tumble-down  sort  of  cottage. 
Christie  likes  to  call  it  his  cabin  in  remembrance 
of  his  old  days  on  board  ship,  but  it  is  so  old  and 
shabby  that  Dr.  Cameron  says  he  wonders  they  have 
not  taken  it  down  long  ago." 

"  Well,  Arthur,  and  what  has  that  to  do  with  your 
birthday  sovereign  ?  " 

"That's  just  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you,  grandpapa; 
only  I've  so  much  to  say.  You  see,  when  his  poor 
son  died  he  left  his  little  children,  and  Mary  (that's 
his  wife)  has  such  hard  work  to  get  them  food.  She's 
had  some  work  at  a  factory,  I  think  Mrs.  Cameron 
called  it,  but  now  they  don't  want  her  any  more." 

"  Poor  thing  !  And  did  you  want  to  give  her  your 
sovereign  ?  " 


Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 


"  No,  grandpapa,  that  isn't  it.  We  thought  it 
would  be  so  nice  for  old  Christie  if  she  could  come 
and  live  with  him.  You  see,  she  could  look  after  him 
and  make  his  tea  and  all  that,"  said  the  little  fellow 
wisely.  "  But  the  rooms  are  so  dirty  ;  the  ceiling  is 
just  as  black  as  the  stove,  and  the  rain  comes  in  at 
the  ceiling." 

"  It  doesn't  sound  very  comfortable,"  said  Mr. 
Ferrers. 

"  No ;  but  we  want  to  make  it  comfortable,"  said 
Arthur  eagerly.  "  We're  going  to  whitewash  the 
ceiling  and  paper  the  walls  with  the  prettiest  paper 
we  can  find.  Only,  you  see,  we  could  not  do  the 
roof;  and  so  Bernard  and  I  want  to  get  Riley  to 
do  that,  and  we  think  he  will  do  it  for  a  sovereign." 

"And  you  want  to  whitewash  the  ceiling  and  paper 
the  walls  ?  "  said  Mr.  Ferrers  incredulously. 

"  Of  course  I  couldn't  do  that,  grandpapa,  because 
I  am  not  nearly  tall  enough ;  but  Bernard  is  quite  a 
big  fellow,  and  we  shall  get  Riley  to  lend  us  his 
steps." 

"  I  see  you  have  settled  it  all  very  nicely,"  said 
Mr.  Ferrers. 

"  Then,  grandpapa,  I  may  do  it,  may  I  not  ?  " 

"  Do  what  ?  " 

"  You  won't  mind  my  spending  my  birthday 
sovereign  like  that,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Arthur ;  the  sovereign  is  your  own,  to  do  just 


Hubert's  Plan.  89 


as  you  like  with  it ;  but  are  you  quite  sure,  when  you 
have  nothing  to  show  for  it,  that  you  won't  want  the 
walking  bear,  and  the  bat,  and  all  the  other  things 
you  talked  about  ?  " 

The  little  fellow  looked  thoughtful  for  a  minute,  as 
if  weighing  it  all  in  his  mind,  then  said  gravely — 

"  No,  grandpapa,  I  don't  think  I  shall  want  the 
other  things  too ;  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  it  makes  old 
Christie  happy." 

"  Very  well,  then ;  you  have  my  permission  to 
spend  the  money  in  this  way  if  you  like.  You  are 
sure  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron  know  all  about  the  cot- 
tage and  what  is  needed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  they  do.  Oh  !  won't  Christie  be 
pleased  when  he  hears  all  about  it  ?  " 

And  Arthur,  in  his  exuberant  joy,  ran  out  into  the 
garden,  tossing  his  cap  as  he  went. 


CHAPTER  XL 
RILEY'S   WORKSHOP. 

next  morning  Mrs.  Cameron  went  to  see 
Miss  NevJUe,  the  lady  she  had  told  Mary 
about  on  the  preceding  day.  She  found  her 
at  her  writing-table,  surrounded  with  papers.  But 
busy  as  Miss  Neville  was,  she  seemed  always  ready 
to  listen  to  any  new  case  of  care  and  sorrow,  if  there 
were  any  possibility  of  giving  a  helping  hand.  She 
now  turned  her  chair  and  prepared  to  listen  to  Mrs. 
Cameron  with  all  the  interest  she  could  command, 
indeed  as  if  hers  was  the  only  case  in  the  world. 

"Ah  !  that's  just  it,"  she  said,  when  Mrs.  Cameron 
had  told  her  story.  "  Here  is  a  mother  that  ought 
to  be  at  home  with  her  children,  and  yet  must  earn 
sufficient  to  make  a  living  for  herself  and  her  family. 
You  should  try  and  get  one  of  the  children,  if  not 
two,  into  one  of  the  many  excellent  orphan  homes, 
and  then  there  would  be  fewer  mouths  to  feed.  Now, 
what  can  we  do  for  the  mother?  It  is  evidently 

90 


Riley's  Workshop.  91 

most  essential  that  she  should  have  work  at  home, 
as  she  has  two  at  least  who  much  need  her  constant 
care — the  grandfather  and  her  baby.  I  have  been 
able,  with  the  help  of  other  ladies,  to  start  a  society 
that  meets  such  cases  as  these.  It  is  very  small  at 
present,  but  will,  I  hope,  soon  grow  to  much  larger 
dimensions.  We  have  a  fund  out  of  which  we  buy 
material.  This  is  cut  out  into  useful  garments,  and 
given  to  women  who  are  good  needlewomen  to  make. 
They  are  paid  at  a  rate  at  which  they  can  really  make 
a  living,  and  do  the  work  at  home.  Many  ladies  buy 
them  gladly  for  the  cost  of  the  work  alone.  Of 
course,  ladies  can  buy  their  own  material  if  they 
wish,  and  have  it  cut  out  to  their  own  patterns,  but 
the  price  paid  for  work  is  decided  by  the  ladies' 
committee.  We  have  lately  had  some  good  orders 
for  trousseaux,  and  our  society  seems  likely  to  grow 
in  favour.  You  see,  the  women  must  be  good  needle- 
women or  they  are  not  eligible.  Now,  does  not  this 
exactly  suit  your  case,  Mrs.  Cameron  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  think  it  is  just  what  I  wanted." 
"  You  must  let  me  see  the  widow,  so  that  I  may 
test  her  powers  as  a  needlewoman,  for  you  understand 
me  the  work  must  be  good" 

Miss  Neville  here  rose  rather  abruptly.  She  had 
given  her  complete  attention  to  the  case,  and  now 
must  turn  to  others  ;  so  Mrs.  Cameron  rose,  promising 
that  Mrs.  Somers  should  call  and  see  her  shortly. 


92  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

In  a  few  days  more  Mary  had  had  a  satisfactory 
interview  with  Miss  Neville,  and  her  name  put  down 
on  her  list  of  workers,  which  promised  her  more  than 
she  had  been  able  to  earn  at  the  factory.  There 
were  many  advantages,  as  she  would  have  much  less 
rent  to  pay  if  she  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  her 
father-in-law,  and  would  also  save  several  shillings 
a  week  in  looking  after  her  children  herself. 

The  children  had  by  no  means  changed  in  their 
wishes  to  do  their  part  in  doing  up  Christie's  rooms, 
and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron  were  anxious  for  them  to 
feel  that  the  responsibility  rested  with  them  to  see 
that  it  was  all  carried  out.  The  services  of  the  whole 
party  were  enlisted,  and  one  and  all  were  prepared  to 
enter  into  it  heart  and  soul.  The  summer  holidays 
had  just  begun,  so  that  they  were  free  to  give  as 
much  or  as  little  time  to  it  as  they  wished.  Bernard, 
being  the  eldest,  was  deputed  by  the  others  to  go  to 
Riley's  workshop  and  make  arrangements  with  him 
about  commencing  the  roof  without  delay.  The  elder 
boy  was  exceedingly  kind  to  the  little  Arthur  Ferrers, 
and  seeing  his  wistful  look  as  he  saw  him  starting, 
he  asked  him  to  go  too.  Arthur  was  delighted.  He 
looked  up  to  Bernard  with  great  veneration,  he  was 
so  tall  and  manly ;  indeed  Arthur  thought  everything 
that  Bernard  did  must  be  right. 

"  Come  along,  youngster,"  he  said  to  Arthur;  "  let 
us  go  and  make  our  bargain  with  Riley." 


Riley' s  Workshop.  93 

He  had  to  make  little  runs  to  keep  up  with  the 
strides  of  Bernard's  long  legs,  so  it  did  not  take 
them  long  to  reach  Riley's  workshop.  He  was  a 
steady  workman,  who  had  a  short  time  since  left  his 
old  master  and  set  up  for  himself.  He  was  at  his 
carpenter's  bench  as  the  boys  entered,  planing  some 
wood,  and  the  chips  were  flying  in  all  directions. 

"  Good-evening,  sir,"  he  said  as  he  stopped  and 
saw  Bernard. 

"We  want  you  to  do  a  little  job  for  us,  Riley," 
Bernard  began. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You.  know  old  Christie's  cottage,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  it's  time  I  did.  I've  known  it  now,  boy 
and  man,  nigh  on  five-and-thirty  years." 

"We  want  to  do  the  old  place  up  a  little ;  it's  in  a  sad 
condition;  the  roof  leaks,  and  it's  frightfully  dirty." 

"  No  doubt,  sir." 

"  Well,  we  want  you  to  look  at  the  roof,  and  see 
what  you  can  do  to  make  it  a  bit  sea-worthy." 

"  I  expect  it's  just  about  crazy,"  said  Riley,  rubbing 
his  forehead. 

"  Of  course,  we  can't  afford  a  new  roof,  or  anything 
like  it,  but  we  thought  a  few  new  tiles  would  do  a 
great  deal.  The  fact  is,  Riley,  I  think  we  must  take 
you  into  the  secret ;  this  is  not  my  father's  affair,  but 
simply  among  us  young  people  ;  so  please  don't  charge 
a  penny  more  than  you  are  obliged,"  he  added,  laugh- 


94  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

ing.  "  You  must  let  us  know  what  you  can  do  for 
the  roof,  and  then  the  two  rooms  Mrs.  Brown  has 
left  must  be  scraped  down.  My  father  won't  hear 
of  the  new  paper  going  on  till  that  is  done." 

"And  he's  quite  right,  sir." 

"  You  see,  Riley,  after  the  old  paper  is  scraped  off 
we  intend  to  whitewash  the  ceiling  and  put  on  the 
paper  ourselves." 

Riley 's  eyes  grew  perceptibly  larger. 

"You  young  gentlemen  are  not  going  to  do  it, 
surely  ?  " 

"Yes,  we  are," cried  Arthur,  unable  to  keep  silent  any 
longer.  "  Our  money  won't  pay  for  everything  ;  and 
we  shall  have  such  fun  over  it,  shan't  we,  Bernard  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  we'll  do  it  all  right ;  you  see  if  we  don't." 

"  Very  well,  sir ;  I  will  go  along  this  evening  and 
have  a  look  at  the  old  place,  and  then  I'll  let  you 
know  what  can  be  done." 

An  hour  or  two  later  Riley  made  his  way  to 
Christie's  cabin ;  and  indeed  the  old  man  had  done 
his  utmost  to  make  the  kitchen  look  as  much  like 
a  cabin  as  he  could.  He  was  smoking  his  pipe  at 
the  door  as  Riley  came  up.  He  and  Will  had  been 
boys  together,  and  it  was  always  a  pleasure  to  Riley 
to  do  the  old  man  a  good  turn  if  he  could. 

"  Ah !  here  you  are  in  the  old  place,  I  see,"  said 
Riley  cheerily,  "  Have  you  got  some  good  baccy, 
Mr.  Christie  ?  " 


Riley' s  Workshop.  95 

"  It's  just  about  as  usual,  thank'ee,  Isaac.  What 
brings  you  here  this  fine  evening  ?  " 

"  I've  come  on  a  bit  of  business ;  I've  orders  to 
look  at  your  roof  and  see  what's  up  with  it." 

"  Who  have  yer  seen,  then  ?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Ah  !  you're  too  inquisitive  there,  I'm  thinking." 

"  It  surely  warn't  any  of  the  young  folks  up  at  the 
Doctor's.  They  did  say  summat  about  the  old  place,  but 
I  scarce  thought  they'd  ever  think  any  more  about  it." 

•''  They  bain't  that  sort,"  said  Riley  shortly. 

"  No,  they're  not,  for  sure  they've  got  just  the 
kindest  young  hearts  that  ever  beat." 

"  You've  lost  old  Mrs.  Brown  at  last,  I  hear." 

"  Yes ;  and  I  was  thinking  how  lonesome  I'd  be 
all  alone  in  the  place,  and  at  the  top  of  it  Mary  conies 
and  tells  me  as  how  her  work's  all  stopped,  and  it  just 
seemed  as  if  everything  were  turned  agin  me.  But  it's 
not  like  our  Father  in  heaven  to  turn  agin  His  children. 
He  was  only  planning  out  something  better  for  us ;  but 
we,  poor  ignorant  critturs  as  we  are,  thought  everything 
was  going  wrong  because  we  couldn't  see  His  way." 

Riley  fidgeted  about  first  on  one  leg,  then  on  the 
other,  as  Christie  spoke.  He  knew  nothing  of  this 
trust  in  God.  He  had  never  felt,  as  old  Christie  did, 
that  he  needed  a  Saviour.  He  simply  prided  himself 
in  his  honour,  his  upright  dealings  with  his  fellow- 
men,  and  his  general  kindness  to  his  neighbours.  But 
there  were  times  when  Riley  did  not  feel  quite  satis- 


96  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

fied  that  he  was  on  the  right  track,  and  he  never  felt 
this  more  than  when  he  was  talking  to  old  Christie. 

"  I  think  I'll  just  go  and  have  a  look  at  the  roof, 
Mr.  Christie,"  he  said,  not  wishing  to  continue  the 
conversation ;  "  and  I'll  look  in  at  the  rooms  that 
Master  Bernard  spoke  of." 

"What!  did  Master  Bernard  go  about  it  hisself?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  a  fair  young  gentleman  was  with  him. 
They  do  say  as  he's  come  from  the  Indies." 

"  Yes,  bless  him  !   that's  Master  Arthur  Ferrers." 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  calls  him,  but  he  seemed 
as  interested  about  the  work  as  ever  Master  Bernard." 

When  Riley  had  finished  his  survey  he  came  and 
poked  his  head  into  the  kitchen  for  a  moment. 

"  Good-night,  Mr.  Christie,"  he  said,  and  was  gone. 

As  he  strode  along  he  made  his  calculations,  and 
coming  to  the  turning  which  led  up  to  The  Chestnuts, 
.he  said  to  himself,  "  I  may  just  as  well  go  now," 
and  in  a  few  minutes  more  he  was  asking  if  he  could 
speak  to  Master  Bernard.  The  news  soon  spread 
among  the  young  people  that  Riley  had  arrived,  and 
very  anxious  they  were  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 
Arthur  Ferrers  was  playing  rounders  with  the  younger 
children,  but  they  rushed  off  at  once  to  follow  Bernard 
to  the  back-door. 

"Well,  sir,  I've  been  down  and  had  a  look  round," 
Riley  said ;  "  it  really  wants  a  new  roof,  or  indeed 
I  might  as  well  say  a  new  cottage  altogether." 


Ri ley's  Workshop.  97 

The  young  countenances  all  fell.  Was  Riley  going 
to  say  that  nothing  could  be  done  after  all  ? 

"  Of  course,  sir,"  he  went  on,  addressing  Bernard, 
"  I  can  patch  the  old  roof  up,  and  you  may  depend 
upon  it  I'll  do  the  very  best  I  can." 

"  But  what  will  it  cost  ?  "  asked  Bernard. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  know  as  it's  you  young  gentlemen  as 
are  wanting  to  do  it  all  for  old  Christie,  and  if  you 
wouldn't  think  me  bold  for  saying  so,  I'd  dearly  like 
to  help  in  it  too.  He's  the  father  of  the  best  friend 
as  I  ever  had,  and  I'd  like  to  do  him  a  good  turn  if 
I  could." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,  Riley.  I  think  I  can 
answer  for  all  of  them,"  looking  round  the  party, 
"  that  they  will  be  only  too  glad  of  your  help." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  think  the  materials  will  come  to  just 
about  a  sovereign,  as  near  as  I  can  tell,  and  if  you 
could  afford  that,  sir,  I'd  like  just  to  give  the  work  in 
myself,"  said  Riley,  getting  red. 

"  Oh  !  it's  splendid,"  said  Arthur,  clapping  his 
hands  in  his  excitement.  "  Why,  it's  just  the  very 
sum  ;  isn't  it,  Bernard  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  that  will  suit  us  exactly,"  said  Bernard. 
"  I  am  sure  it  is  awfully  kind  of  you  to  help  us  like 
this,  Riley.  1  fear  we  should  have  had  to  give  it  up 
for  the  present  if  you  had  not  stepped  in  and  given 
your  work  in.  I  am  very  low  in  the  funds  just  now," 
he  added,  laughing,  and  chinking  a  few  coppers  in 

G 


Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 


his  pocket.  "  And  I  believe  the  others  are  much  in 
the  same  boat." 

"  Don't  you  trouble,  sir,"  said  Riley,  laughing  too. 
"  We'll  do  the  old  place  up  fine  between  us." 

"Will  you  let  us  have  some  papers  to  choose 
from  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  ! "  cried  Arthur  ;  "  we  want  the  very 
prettiest  paper  we  can  find." 

"  All  right,  sir.  I've  got  a  book  of  papers  down  at 
the  workshop,  which  I  will  let  you  have  to  look  at." 

"  Oh  !  do  let  us  go  and  fetch  it,"  said  Arthur 
impetuously. 

"  Why,  my  dear  young  gentleman,  it  is  almost  as 
big  as  you  are,"  said  Riley,  laughing.  "  You  couldn't 
carry  it." 

"  Hubert  would  help  me.    Wouldn't  you,  Hubert  ?  " 

"  We'll  all  go,"  said  Bernard.  "  I  dare  say  I  can 
carry  this  ponderous  book." 

So  back  they  went  with  Riley  to  the  workshop,  and 
Bernard  carried  the  big  book  back  in  triumph. 

"  I  want  to  see  them  dreadfully,  don't  you,  Hubert  ?" 
said  Arthur,  as  he  capered  along  by  Bernard's  side. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  they  soon  reached 
The  Chestnuts,  and  Bernard  carried  it  at  once  to  the 
schoolroom,  where  they  could  inspect  it  as  long  as 
they  liked. 

Certainly  Bernard  proved  to  be  a  most  patient 
showman,  for  he  turned  over  page  after  page  without 


Riley's  Workshop.  99 

grumbling.  If  it  had  been  the  decoration  of  some 
stately  drawing-room  that  had  been  under  discussion 
no  greater  care  could  possibly  have  been  bestowed 
upon  it.  At  last  a  paper  that  was  suitable  in  price, 
and  all  agreed  was  cheerful  without  being  too  bright 
in  colour,  was  selected,  and  Hubert  was  sent  to  seek 
Mrs.  Cameron.  She  soon  obeyed  the  summons,  and 
the  Doctor  came  with  her  to  see  the  young  people's 
choice.  They  both  thought  the  selection  a  good 
one  and  this  knotty  point  being  settled,  the  younger 
members  of  the  party  hurried  off  to  bed. 


.h**  — 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  YOUNG  WORKPEOPLE. 

j|HE  very  next  morning  Riley  arrived  at  Christie's 
door  with  a  long  ladder  and  all  the  other 
paraphernalia  connected  with  mending  a  tiled 
roof.  Christie  came  out  and  watched  his  preparations 
with  great  interest,  and  soon  after  breakfast  Hubert 
and  Arthur  came  running  down  to  know  if  Riley  was 
really  going  to  begin  work.  Hubert  was  for  climb- 
ing the  ladder,  and  making  a  personal  examination 
of  the  roof;  but  Riley  guessed  rightly  that  Arthur 
would  want  to  follow  his  example,  and  decided  that 
both  boys  would  be  safer  on  terra  firma. 

"  Oh  Riley  1  do  let  me  go  up  just  once,"  Hubert 
pleaded. 

"  No,  sir,  I  really  can't  allow  it.  If  the  Doctor 
were  here  hisself,  and  didn't  object,  all  well  and  goody 
but  I'm  not  going  to  run  the  risk  of  carrying  you 
home  with  broken  legs  or  arms." 

"  It    is    stupid    of    Riley,"    said   Hubert    sullenly. 
100 


The  Young  Workpeople.  101 

"  Why,  I've  been  on  a  ladder  lots  and  lots  of 
times." 

But  Riley  was  quite  firm  on  the  point,  and  so  the 
boys  had  to  content  themselves  with  watching  his 
proceedings  from  below.  After  a  while  they  began 
to  tire  of  this,  especially  as  the  sun  got  very  hot ;  so 
they  decided  to  return  home.  At  the  gate  they  saw 
Mrs.  Cameron  coming  out  from  Mr.  Ferrers'. 

"  I  have  been  paying  your  grandpapa  a  visit, 
Arthur,"  she  said,  as  she  joined  them.  "  I  went  to 
ask  him  if  he  would  allow  you  to  go  with  us  to 
Stourcliffe.  What  would  you  say  to  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Cameron,  really  !  how  kind  of  you  !  But 
what  does  grandpapa  say  ?  "  asked  Arthur  eagerly. 

"  He  is  quite  willing  for  you  to  go  for  a  little 
while  at  least ;  he  thinks  the  sea  and  country  air 
will  do  you  good." 

"  And  I  was  thinking  whatever  I  should  do  when 
Hubert  was  gone ;  I  should  have  no  one  to  play  with. 
But  do  you  think  grandpapa  can  spare  me  ?  Will  he 
be  very  dull  without  me  ?  "  asked  Arthur  gravely. 

"  I  hope  not.  I  think  he  seemed  really  glad  to 
have  you  go." 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  mother  about  all  the  nice 
things,"  he  said  sadly,  a  sudden  remembrance  of  his 
mother  coming  to  him.  "  She  was  so  glad  when  I 
had  anything  nice,  and  this  is  just  the  jolliest,  happiest 
thins:  that  could  be." 


IO2  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron,  tenderly 
putting  her  hand  on  the  little  fellow's  shoulder.  "It 
is  a  great  pleasure  to  make  you  happy,  dear  child." 

"  I  must  go  and  thank  grandpapa,"  he  said,  darting 
off,  and  in  a  couple  of  minutes  a  breathless  little 
visitor  was  standing  at  Mr.  Ferrers'  library  door. 

Mr.  Ferrers  looked  up  from  his  book,  a  little  vexed 
at  being  disturbed. 

"  Oh  grandpapa !  I  could  not  help  it,"  he  said 
apologetically,  "you  are  the  kindest,  dearest  grand- 
papa that  anybody  ever  had." 

"  Why,  whatever  is  all  this  about  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Ferrers. 

"  Mrs.  Cameron  says  you  will  let  me  go  with  them 
all  to  Stourcliffe,  and  I  am  so  delighted  I  don't  know 
what  to  do." 

"  You  will  like  to  go,  then,  Arthur  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.  But  are  you  sure  you  won't  be  dull, 
grandpapa?  Will  you  be  lonely  without  me?  Be- 
cause I  won't  go  if  you  would." 

Mr.  Ferrers  had  at  first  dreaded  the  frequent  com- 
pany of  a  child,  but  he  had  learnt  to  like  seeing  the 
little  figure  come  into  the  library,  and  he  knew  well 
that  he  should  miss  him  sadly.  But  he  saw  the 
anxious  look  on  the  boy's  face,  and  only  said — 

"  I  shall  be  very  pleased  for  you  to  go,  Arthur.  I 
want  to  see  these  cheeks  a  little  fatter,  and  some 
more  colour  in  them." 


The  Yo^lng  Workpeople.  103 

So  Arthur  was  satisfied,  and  ran  off  to  tell  Bailey 
and  Markham  of  the  pleasures  in  store. 

By  the  evening  of  the  next  day  Riley  had  the 
rooms  ready  for  the  young  workers  to  begin  their 
operations,  and  very  gladly  provided  them  with  steps 
and  planks,  besides  very  full  instructions  as  to  how 
they  were  to  proceed.  Bernard  and  Leslie,  attired  in 
very  old  shabby  coats,  stood  ready  to  begin,  while  the 
younger  members  of  the  party  peered  in  at  the  door, 
being  unable  to  render  any  assistance  at  this  juncture. 

Hubert  and  Arthur  were  however  useful  as 
messengers. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  this  is  hot  work,"  said  Bernard, 
after  they  had  been  at  it  for  a  couple  of  hours. 
"  What  do  you  say,  Leslie  ?  " 

"Yes,  very  hot;  and  doesn't  it  make  your  arms  ache?" 

"Here,  you  youngsters,"  said  Bernard,  "go  up  to 
the  house  and  see  if  you  cannot  get  us  some 
lemonade.  I  was  never  so  thirsty  in  my  life." 

So  off  the  two  willing  helpers  trotted,  and  soon 
came  back  with  two  bottles  of  lemonade  and  a  glass. 

"  You  are  the  best  little  chaps  in  the  world," 
said  Bernard  after  he  had  taken  the  welcome  refresh- 
ment. "  Now  I  shall  get  on  splendidly.  Won't  you, 
Leslie  ?  " 

"Yes,  that's  better,"  said  Leslie,  taking  up  his  big 
brush.  "  Here  goes." 

The  boys  worked  well,  and  before  they  went  home 


IO4  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

had  finished  "  washing "  the  two  ceilings,  as  they 
called  it.  While  they  had  been  busy  at  the  cottage, 
the  girls  had  been  equally  busy  at  home.  They  had 
determined  that  the  boys  should  not  leave  them  in 
the  background,  and  had  persuaded  their  mother  to 
turn  out  her  stores  and  see  if  she  had  any  old 
curtains  that  they  might  make  up  for  the  windows. 
Some  white  dimity  seemed  most  suitable  for  their 
purpose,  for,  as  Maude  sagely  remarked,  "  it  would 
wash  and  go  up  again  as  clean  and  nice  as  ever." 

"  They  are  much  too  long  for  the  cottage  windows, 
mother,  are  they  not  ?  "  said  Ethel. 

"  Yes  ;  almost  double  the  length  you  will  want, 
I  expect,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron. 

"We  ought  to  go  and  measure  the  right  length." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  content  yourself  with 
unpicking  some  of  the  binding  to-night,  and  go  down 
to  the  cottage  early  to-morrow." 

So  when  the  boys  came  home  they  found  Maude  and 
Ethel  busy  unpicking,  with  little  Gladys  looking  on. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  Dr.  Cameron,  "  how  is  the 
whitewashing  getting  on  ?  " 

"  Oh !  first-rate,  father.  The  ceiling's  begun  to 
look  a  little  whiter  already.  Leslie  is  in  such  a  hurry 
to  begin  papering  that  I  believe  it  makes  him  keep 
on  more  than  anything." 

"Well,  when  all  trades  fail  I  shall  not  turn  white- 
washer,"  said  Leslie,  throwing  himself  into  an  easy- 


The  Young  Workpeople.  105 

chair  and  stretching.      "  If  it  doesn't  make  a  fellow's 
arms  ache  I  don't  know  what  does." 

"Very  good  exercise,  my  boy,"  said  his  father, 
laughing. 

"  You  should  just  come  and  try  it  for  one  half- 
hour  ;  you  would  soon  find  out  what  it  is." 

"  I  think  I  am  quite  satisfied  with  your  account  of 
it.  You  are  not  repenting  of  your  bargain,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Bernard  quickly,  answering  for 
his  brother.  "  We  will  go  through  with  it,  and  I 
don't  think  we  shall  ever  repent.  Poor  old  Christie 
is,  I  believe,  counting  the  days  for  Mary  to  come." 

The  next  morning  directly  after  breakfast  the 
young  people  were  off  to  their  work.  Maude  and 
Ethel  went  with  them,  so  that  they  might  measure 
the  windows  before  the  whitewashing  began,  and 
after  a  short  chat  with  old  Christie  they  returned 
home  ready  to  begin  the  curtains. 

By  the  next  day  the  boys  were  able  to  begin 
papering,  but  Leslie  had  got  rather  tired  of  the  work, 
and  gave  out  at  breakfast-time  that  he  had  a  tooth- 
ache, and  could  not  go  down  to  the  cabin. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  can  go  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Cameron. 
"It  seems  too  bad  to  leave  all  the  work  to  Bernard, 
especially  as  it  is  such  a  hot  day." 

It  was  part  of  Leslie's  character  to  take  things  up 
very  vehemently  at  first,  but  soon  tire  of  them,  and 
it  often  made  his  mother  anxious  about  him.  "  I 


io6  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

wish  you  were  more  steadfast,  Leslie,"  she  would 
say  sometimes.  But  this  work  at  old  Christie's  cabin 
was  a  labour  of  love,  and  she  had  no  wish  to  press 
him  on  to  it,  unless  he  did  it  willingly.  So  it  ended 
in  Leslie  taking  himself  off  to  the  garden  and  lying 
under  a  tree  with  a  book,  while  Bernard  went  back 
to  the  work  attended  by  his  satellites,  as  Maude  called 
them. 

"  I  have  plenty  for  you  two  to  do,"  he  said  as 
they  reached  the  room.  "  You  can  cut  the  selvage 
off  the  paper,  Arthur  ;  and  you  can  paste,  Hubert  ; 
then  we  shall  get  on  finely." 

The  little  boys  were  delighted  to  find  they  were 
really  to  take  some  part,  and  most  willingly  listened 
to  all  Bernard's  directions.  The  worst  of  it  was,  that 
the  big  scissors  were  very  awkward  for  Arthur's 
small  fingers,  and  it  ended  in  his  running  back  to  the 
house  to  ask  Mrs.  Cameron  to  lend  him  a  smaller  pair. 

When  two  breadths  of  the  paper  were  really  up 
they  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room  to  see  the  effect, 
and  as  they  all  decided  that  it  looked  first-rate,  they 
went  on  with  renewed  vigour.  They  were  tired  and 
hot,  when  about  half-past  eleven  a  step  was  heard  on 
the  stairs,  and  Maude  appeared  carrying  a  basket  con- 
taining some  very  welcome  lunch. 

"  My  dear  Maude,  you  are  the  dearest  girl  in  the 
world,"  said  Bernard,  jumping  down  from  the  top  of 
the  steps.  "  We  are  as  hungry  as  hunters,  but  we 


The  Young  Workpeople.  107 

were  so  busy  we  did  not  like  to  stop  to  get  anything 
to  eat.  How  do  you  think  the  paper  looks  ?  " 

"  Oh !  it  is  capital,"  said  Maude  approvingly. 
"  And  how  splendidly  you  have  got  on  !  You  will 
get  it  done  sooner  than  you  expected." 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  said  Hubert.  "  How  are 
the  curtains  progressing  ?  " 

"  Very  nicely ;  but  the  sides  seem  very  long  to 
bind,"  said  Maude. 

"  And  you  were  very  glad  to  slip  away,  young  lady  ; 
and  our  lunch  was  a  good  excuse,"  said  Hubert. 

"  I  was  not  sorry  to  have  a  run,"  said  Maude, 
laughing,  "  but  still  I  knew  the  lunch  would  be  wel- 
come. You  are  not  half  grateful,  Hubert." 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  am ;  you  are  the  best  sister  I  have 
just  at  present." 

"Come,  you  eat  your  cake,  youngster,  and  begin  work 
again,"  said  Bernard,  "  or  you  will  keep  me  waiting." 

By  the  next  afternoon  the  papering  was  finished, 
and  the  young  people,  tired  and  hot  as  they  were, 
surveyed  their  work  with  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction. 
It  only  remained  now  to  have  the  floor  scrubbed  to 
make  all  in  readiness  for  Mary's  coming.  For  this 
they  had  enlisted  the  services  of  Esther,  an  under- 
servant  at  The  Chestnuts,  who  was  always  pleased  to 
help  the  children  in  any  way  she  could. 

At  last  even  this  was  finished,  and  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Cameron  were  invited  to  come  and  inspect  the  im- 


loS  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

provements.  Old  Christie  received  them  at  the  door 
with  a  beaming  face. 

"  Oh  Ma'am  !  it's  just  fine,  and  that  it  is.  They've 
done  it  as  clever  as  can  be.  Their  young  arms  must 
ache,  I'm  sure.  May  God  bless  them,"  he  added  fer- 
vently, "  for  all  their  goodness  to  an  old  man." 

"  I  think  they  have  a  blessing  already,  Christie," 
said  Mrs.  Cameron ;  "  their  hearts  are  very  light  and 
full  of  happiness.  It  must  ever  be  so  when  we  try 
to  do  a  little  kindness  for  others,  and  we  have  our 
blessed  Lord's  own  promise  that  even  a  cup  of  cold 
water  given  in  His  name  shall  have  its  reward." 

"  Please,  mother,  we  are  all  waiting,"  said  Hubert 
from  the  top  of  the  stairs. 

There  was  only  one  of  the  party  missing,  and  that 
was  Leslie.  He  well  knew  that  his  toothache  had  been 
very  slight,  by  no  means  sufficient  to  keep  him  back 
from  work  that  he  had  undertaken  of  his  own  free  will. 
And  now  he  felt  cross  with  himself  and  every  one  about 
him.  He  little  knewhowmuch  real  happiness  he  missed 
that  night.  He  had  sauntered  off  by  himself  in  the  op- 
posite direction,  knowing  that  having  shirked  his  work, 
he  had  no  right  to  share  the  general  commendation. 
The  party  were  all  so  interested  that  probably  no  one 
missed  him  except  his  mother,  and  she  had  some  anxious 
thoughts  about  her  boy.  She  wanted  to  see  him  faith- 
ful and  steadfast  in  the  little  things,  and  then  she 
knew  she  need  have  no  fear  about  the  greater  ones. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 
THE  FLITTING. 

.HILE  busy  hands  had  been  working  such  a 
^YnR  change  in  Christie's  old  rooms,  no  little  stir 
*&**&'  had  been  going  on  in  the  upper  floor  of  the 
large  lodging-house  where  Mary  lived.  Having  been 
out  at  work  so  much,  many  things  had  been  neglected. 
Pots  and  pans  that  in  Will's  time  had  been  bright 
had  of  late  been  looking  dim  and  murky,  and  Mary 
availed  herself  of  the  few  days  to  polish  up  and  make 
all  ready  for  the  flitting. 

But  one  little  heart  was  very  sad  at  the  coming 
change.  This  was  Birdie's.  The  child  yearned  for 
love,  and  when  she  found  it  in  her  new  playfellows 
she  prized  it  dearly.  Her  mother,  it  is  true,  had 
always  loved  her  tenderly,  but  she  did  not  make  much 
show  of  it.  If  she  had  ever  been  disposed  to  be 
demonstrative,  it  had  long  ago  faded  away  under  the 
chilling  influences  of  her  life,  and  though  she  went 
to  church  Sunday  after  Sunday,  it  was  more  to  please 

109 


1 10  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

Birdie,  who  had  an  intense  love  for  music,  than  for 
any  real  comfort  she  herself  derived  from  going  there. 
And  now  the  bright  spot  that  had  come  into  the 
child's  life  was  to  be  taken  from  her.  She  had  been 
so  happy  before,  not  knowing  what  she  lost  by  being 
blind.  Never  having  had  the  real  companionship  of 
children,  she  had  never  missed  it.  But  now  she 
knew  how  sweet  the  child-friendship  was,  and  she 
could  think  of  nothing  else  but  that  it  was  going  from 
her,  as  far  as  she  knew,  for  ever. 

The  last  evening  had  come,  and  Birdie  had  just 
come  out  from  Mary's  room.  Tears  were  streaming 
down  from  the  sightless  eyes  when  her  father  came 
up  the  stairs,  his  bag  of  tools  in  his  hand. 

"  Come,  stop  that,"  he  said  roughly  to  the  child ; 
"  I  don't  want  no  crying  when  I  come  home." 

But  poor  Birdie's  heart  was  full,  and  the  tears 
rained  down  her  cheeks  the  faster.  She  was  always 
rather  frightened  of  her  father.  Perhaps  she  was 
half-conscious  that  he  had  never  forgiven  her  for 
being  a  girl  instead  of  a  boy,  and  then  when  he  had 
found  that  she  was  blind  he  had  looked  upon  her 
as  useless,  and  the  little  love  he  had  seemed  to  go 
altogether.  No  wonder  that  Birdie's  mother  looked 
sad  and  crushed  with  such  a  husband.  He  strode  on 
into  the  room,  throwing  down  his  bag  in  one  corner 
with  a  great  clatter. 

Harry  was  standing  at  his  mother's  half-open  door, 


The  Flitting.  1 1 1 

and  hearing  Birdie's  pitiful  sobs,  he  ventured  out  on 
to  the  landing,  when  he  knew  that  her  father  was 
safely  inside  his  own  room.  Taking  the  child's  hand, 
he  led  her  back  to  his  mother's  room.  Mary  had 
just  gone  out  to  a  shop  close  by,  so  the  two  children 
were  alone.  Harry  had  a  kind,  tender  heart,  much  like 
his  father's,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  see  Birdie's  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,  Birdie,"  he  said,  trying  to  comfort  her. 

"I  can't  help  it,"  said  Birdie,  sobbing;  "I  shall 
never,  never  be  happy  any  more." 

This  was  her  first  real  sorrow,  and  she  could  not 
be  comforted  very  easily.  Harry  looked  at  her  with 
a  puzzled  face.  At  last  he  said — 

"  Birdie,  don't  you  remember  about  the  kind  Friend 
mother  was  telling  you  about  the  other  day  ?  " 

Birdie  nodded. 

"  You  know  mother  said  He  loves  children,  and 
He  is  always  near  us.  Won't  it  comfort  you  to 
think  about  Him  ?  " 

Birdie  shook  her  head.  "  I  want  you,  Harry,  and 
Polly,"  she  said  sadly. 

"  I  wish  you  were  going  with  us." 

"  I  wish  I  was.  Father  is  so  cross,  I'm  frightened 
of  him,"  said  Birdie,  shuddering,  and  drawing  closer 
to  Harry  as  if  for  protection. 

"  When  you're  afraid,  Birdie,  you  should  tell  the 
Lord  Jesus  about  it.  I  know  He  is  strong  and  kind, 
and  I  specs  He  knows  as  you  are  blind." 


1 1 2  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

"  Do  you  think  He  does  ?  "  said  Birdie,  looking  a 
little  more  interested. 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  He  does.  He  was  ever  so  kind 
to  the  blind  people  when  He  was  here  on  earth.  I 
have  heard  mother  read  about  it." 

"  Mother  never  reads  stories  out  of  the  Bible  like 
your  mother  does." 

"  But  don't  you  hear  them  at  church  ?  "  said  Harry. 

Birdie  shook  her  head.  "  It's  the  organ  and  the 
singing  I  like  best." 

"  Oh  !  I  like  the  stories,"  said  Harry,  who  had  not 
such  a  keen  enjoyment  of  music  as  the  blind  child. 
"  I  am  sure  it  was  last  Sunday  that  the  clergyman 
read  about  the  two  blind  men." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  said  that  these  two  blind  men  had 
heard  about  Jesus,  how  He  had  cured  many  sick 
people,  and  one  day  they  heard  the  people  crying  out 
that  Jesus  was  coming.  They  could  hear  the  crowd 
tramping  along,  and  they  thought  in  another  minute 
He  would  be  gone.  So  they  cried  out  ever  so  loud." 

"  What  did  they  say  ?  " 

"  I  can't  quite  remember,  but  it  was  something 
about  mercy." 

"  And  did  Jesus  hear  them  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  He  stopped  directly." 

"  It  was  kind  of  Him.  Do  you  think  He  is  the 
same  now  ?  " 


The  Flitting  1 1 3 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  Mother,"  he  said,  as  Mary 
entered,  "  I  have  been  telling  Birdie  about  the  two 
blind  men,  and  Jesus  is  just  as  kind  and  loving  now, 
isn't  He  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  just  as  kind  and  loving." 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Harry  triumphantly. 

Mary  looked  at  the  tear-stained  little  face,  and 
drawing  the  child  to  her,  she  said — 

"  Do  you  know,  Birdie,  Jesus  can  comfort  us  better 
than  any  one  else  can.  I  like  to  think  He  is  always 
near  me,  always  loving  me." 

"  But  perhaps  He  doesn't  love  me,"  said  Birdie. 

"  Yes,  I  am  quite  sure  He  does  ;  and  He  wants  you 
to  love  Him  in  return.  We  can  never  thank  Him 
enough  for  all  He  has  done  for  us.  Just  think  how 
He  left  His  Father's  home  in  heaven,  to  come  down 
and  live  on  the  earth  just  as  we  do.  And  then, 
above  all,  He  died  for  us,  Birdie ;  we  have  no  earthly 
friend  who  loves  us  half  as  well." 

"  He  must  have  loved  us  to  do  that,"  said  Birdie 
thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,  indeed  He  must.  Don't  you  want  to  love 
Him,  Birdie  ?  " 

"  I  think  I'd  like  to ;  but  then  if  I'm  cross  and 
angry  He  won't  care  about  me,  will  He  ?  " 

"  He  would  be  very  grieved,  Birdie,  but  He  would 
love  you  still.  When  you  feel  cross  and  angry,  you 

can  always  ask  God  to  forgive  you  for  the  sake  of 

H 


ii4  OM  Christie's  Cabin. 

His  dear  Son,  and  ask  Him,  too,  to  help  you  not  to 
grieve  Him.  We  are  going  to  leave  you,  dear,  but 
remember  that  Jesus  is  always  near.  Will  you  ask 
Him  to  help  you  to  love  Him  more  ?  And  never, 
never  forget  that  He  always  loves  you." 

Here  Birdie's  mother  came  to  the  door  to  say  that 
it  was  past  bed-time.  Her  face  looked  more  sad  and 
worn  than  usual,  and  she  bade  the  child  be  quiet,  as 
father  had  come  home  and  seemed  very  cross. 

Birdie  needed  no  second  bidding  to  be  quiet.  She 
knew  her  father's  moods,  and  crept  to  bed  as  silently 
as  a  little  mouse,  looking  very  different  to  the  merry, 
happy  Birdie  that  she  usually  was. 

The  next  day  Mary  and  her  children  were  to 
accomplish  the  flitting.  The  kind  Doctor  and  his  wife 
had  promised  to  bear  this  expense  for  her,  which 
had  been  another  burden  lifted  from  her  shoulders. 
She  had  not  felt  so  cheered  since  her  husband's 
death,  though  she  could  not  leave  the  spot  where  she 
had  spent  so  many  happy  years  with  him  without 
a  pang.  Poor  little  Birdie  listened  to  each  sound  as 
it  fell  upon  her  ear.  She  could  not  see,  but  she 
heard  each  piece  of  furniture  moved  from  its  accus- 
tomed place,  and  she  knew  that  all  too  soon  the 
rooms  would  be  silent  and  empty. 

"  I  think  it  is  all  gone  now,"  she  heard  Mary  say. 
"  Now,  children,  we  must  start  at  once.  It  will  not 
do  to  keep  the  van  waiting."  For  Mary's  stock  of 


The  Flitting,  1 1 5 

furniture  was  not  so  extensive  but  that  it  left  plenty 
of  room  for  her  and  her  children. 

"  Good-bye,  Birdie,"  she  said,  tenderly  kissing  the 
child.  "  Don't  cry,  dear.  Do  remember  about  the 
Lord  Jesus  and  how  He  loves  you.  You  must  come  to 
our  new  home  some  day  and  see  Harry  and  Polly." 

This  seemed  like  a  gleam  of  hope  to  the  sad  child. 

"  Oh  !  don't  forget,  please.  I  shall  want  to  come 
some  day  ever  so  badly." 

"  Good-bye,  Birdie,"  called  Harry  and  Polly  together, 
and  then  the  van  moved  slowly  down  the  street. 

It  was  well  that  Mrs.  Cameron  was  blessed  with  an 
unusual  store  of  patience,  or  it  would  have  been  used 
up  long  before  night  on  the  day  that  Mary  was 
expected. 

"  Mother,  when  do  you  really  think  they  will  come  ?  " 
Hubert  would  ask,  to  be  followed  shortly  by  numerous 
questions  from  Arthur  as  to  how  big  the  van  would 
be,  how  long  they  would  take  on  the  road,  and  end- 
less other  inquiries. 

Probably  old  Christie  was  scarcely  less  impatient 
than  the  children.  It  would  be  hard  to  tell  how  many 
times  he  climbed  the  steep  stairs  to  have  a  look  round 
at  the  now  clean  and  pleasant-looking  rooms. 

Mrs.  Cameron  had  assured  the  children  that  it  was 
not  at  all  possible  for  them  to  arrive  till  late  in  the 
afternoon.  It  was  scarcely  past  three,  however,  before 
Hubert  and  Arthur  appeared  at  Christie's  door. 


n6  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

"  They  haven't  come  yet,  Christie,  have  they  ? " 
asked  Hubert. 

"  No,  Master  Hubert,  I  don't  expect  as  they  can 
be  here  just  yet.  You  see,  it's  a  goodish  way  to  come 
right  down  from  London." 

The  boys  stayed  till  nearly  five,  when  pangs  of 
hunger  warned  them  that  it  must  be  tea-time.  But 
they  soon  returned,  and  just  as  they  once  more  reached 
the  cottage  the  van  came  in  view.  Maude  had  come 
with  them  this  time,  as  she  too  longed  to  hear  how 
Mary  liked  her  rooms. 

"  Here  they  are,  Christie,  here  they  are  !  "  shouted 
Arthur,  and  in  a  minute  the  old  man  was  out  at  the 
door,  shading  his  eyes  from  the  bright  sun. 

"Yes,  there  they  be,  Master  Arthur,  sure  enough. 
Bless  'em  !  there's  the  children." 

The  van  came  to  a  stand,  and  Mary  with  her 
baby  in  her  arms  jumped  lightly  down,  followed  by 
the  other  children. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last,  Mary,"  Christie  said.  "  I 
and  the  young  gentlemen  have  been  looking  out  for 
you  ever  so  long.  They  want  to  show  you  the  rooms. 
Will  you  go  up  at  once  ?  " 

"  Yes,  surely,"  said  Mary,  but  little  guessing  half 
the  pains  and  trouble  that  the  young  people  had 
bestowed  on  them  for  her  comfort.  So  Arthur  and 
Hubert  proudly  led  the  way,  Maude  following  behind 
with  little  Polly. 


The  Flitting.  1 1 7 


"  Oh,  how  nice,  how  beautiful ! "  Mary  exclaimed, 
a  pleased,  happy  look  passing  over  her  face.  "And 
have  you  young  gentlemen  done  all  this  for  me  ? 
Oh  !  it  is  good  and  kind.  And  what  a  pretty 
paper  ! " 

"  We  wanted  the  very  prettiest  paper  we  could 
find,"  said  Arthur,  "and  we  all  thought  this  the 
cheerfullest  of  any." 

"It  is  so  sweet  and  clean.  I  shall  never  be  able 
to  thank  you  as  I  would ; "  and,  to  the  children's 
astonishment, .real  tears  began  running  down  Mary's 
cheeks.  They  did  not  know  that  there  are  tears  of  joy 
as  well  as  sorrow. 

After  everything  had  been  duly  admired,  Maude, 
with  ready  tact,  drew  the  boys  away,  knowing  intui- 
tively that  Mary  would  rather  be  left  alone  when  so 
much  had  to  be  done. 

Downstairs  they  found  Harry  and  Polly  gazing  at 
the  river,  full  of  interest  in  the  bright  new  scene. 

"You  will  like  this  better  than  London,  won't 
you  ?  "  asked  Hubert. 

"Yes;  it's  real  jolly,"  said  Harry.  "But  I  wish 
Birdie  was  here  too ;  she  would  like  it,  and  it  will  be 
mighty  dull  for  her  now  we're  gone." 

"  Who  is  Birdie  ?  "  asked  Arthur. 

"  Oh !  she's  a  blind'  girl  as  lived  on  the  same 
floor  with  us.  She's  no  brothers  or  sisters,  and 
her  father's  awfully  cross  and  rough." 


1 1 8  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  Poor  girl !  "  said  Maude  kindly.  "  And  I  suppose 
she  used  to  play  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  she'll  have  no  one  now." 

Here  Mary's  voice  was  heard  calling  the  children 
indoors,  so  Hubert  and  Arthur  set  off  home,  satisfied 
at  last  in  knowing  that  Mary  had  arrived. 

"  Well,  was  Mary  pleased  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cameron 
as  she  met  them  in  the  hall. 

"  Yes,  very  pleased,"  said  Maude. 

"  But,  mother,  wasn't  it  strange  she  began  to  cry  ?  " 
said  Hubert.  , 

"  Did  she  ?  Poor  thing  !  I  don't  think  the  tears 
meant  that  she  was  sorry.  I  expect  her  heart 
was  very  full ;  and  if  you  could  have  understood, 
you  would  have  known  that  they  were  tears  of 
thankfulness." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TWO  LITTLE  LONDONERS. 

(HE  next   morning,  as  Dr.  Cameron  was  open 
ing  his  letters  he  made  an  exclamation  on 
reading  one  of  them. 

"  Well,  that  is  the  most  sensible  plan  I  have 
heard  of  for  some  time." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cameron. 

"  Why,  some  one  has  suggested  raising  a  fund 
for  taking  some  of  the  poor  children  of  London  who 
are  in  weak  health  to  the  country  for  a  fortnight." 

"  What  a  splendid  idea  !  Fancy  the  intense  hap- 
piness it  will  give,  to  say  nothing  of  the  renewed 
health." 

"  I  wonder  if  people  will  take  it  up  heartily.  I 
hope  they  will  take  good  care  where  they  send  the 
children,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "  Much  judgment  will 
be  needed  in  choosing  the  right  places,  or  rather, 
I  should  say  the  right  people  to  take  care  of  them." 

"  Yes  ;   but  I  am  afraid  many  of  the  poor  children 

119 


I2O  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

./ 

have  so  many  hardships  in  their  own  miserable 
homes  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  anything 
worse." 

"  How  would  it  be,  Allan,  instead  of  giving  money, 
to  take  two  children  with  us  to  Stourcliffe  ?  " 

The  Doctor  rather  opened  his  eyes  at  this  proposal. 

"  My  dear,  I  hardly  think  you  have  calculated 
what  that  means." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you  that  it  needs  thinking 
over,  but  it  always  seems  easier  to  put  one's  hand 
in  one's  pocket  and  give  money  than  it  is  to  take  a 
little  trouble." 

"  But  you  need  rest.  1  am  sure  you  do  not  want 
more  children  to  look  after." 

"  I  don't  think  this  would  add  to  my  trouble  very 
much,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "  And  anything  we 
can  do  to  help  our  children  to  think  of  the  happiness 
of  others  when  they  have  so  much  to  enjoy  them- 
selves must  be  good." 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  of  that.  If  all  of  us  who  profess 
to  follow  Christ  would  remember  '  that  even  Christ 
pleased  not  Himself,'  the  world's  care  would  be 
wonderfully  lightened.  Children  brought  up  only 
to  think  of  themselves  are  not  likely  to  grow  up 
unselfish  men  and  women." 

"  I  do  not  think  that  two  poor  children  would 
be  in  our  way,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "You  see,  the 
old  farm  is  a  large,  roomy  house  ;  there  is  plenty  of 


Two  Little  Londoners.  1 2 1 

good  milk,  and  the  fields  and  the  shore  would  give 
enjoyment  for  all." 

"Well,  we  must  think  it  over,"  said  the  Doctor, 
rising  to  go  on  his  rounds. 

Maude  had  been  sitting  near,  with  a  book  in  her 
hand,  half  reading  and  half  listening  to  her  father 
and  mother's  conversation.  When  the  Doctor  had 
left  the  room  she  put  down  her  book  and  exclaimed — 

"  Mother,  I  think  it  would  be  a  lovely  plan  to 
take  two  poor  children  down  to  Stourcliffe.  Harry 
was  speaking  last  night  of  some  poor  blind  child 
that  they  knew  in  London  who,  he  said,  would  miss 
them  dreadfully.  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  we  could 
take  her  ?  " 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Cameron. 

"  I  do  not  know  anything  about  her  except  that 
she  is  blind  and  has  a  very  cross  father." 

"  Well,  I  intend  going  down  to-day  to  see  how 
they  are  all  getting  on  at  the  cabin,  and  I  will  try 
and  hear  something  more  about  her ;  but  I  must  not 
propose  her  going  to  Stourcliffe  without  hearing 
whether  father  approves  of  it." 

Later  in  the  day  Mrs.  Cameron  and  Maude  walked 
down  to  old  Christie's  cabin.  They  found  Mary 
looking  very  comfortable  in  her  new  quarters,  and 
full  of  gratitude  for  all  the  kindness  that  had  been 
shown  her.  Harry  was  down  by  the  river-side, 
fascinated  with  the  new  scenes  that  surrounded  him. 


122  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  Harry  was  telling  my  young  people  last  night," 
said  Mrs.  Cameron,  "  about  a  little  blind  girl." 

"  Oh  yes,  poor  Birdie  !  "  said  Mary  ;  "  it  made  my 
heart  ache  to  see  her  crying  so  when  we  came  away. 
She  had  never  had  any  children  to  play  with  till  she 
knew  mine,  and  now  she  will  sadly  miss  them,  I  fear." 

"  Has  she  no  brothers  or  sisters  ?  " 

"  No ;  and  though  her  mother  loves  her  dearly, 
still  she  is  so  worn  and  sad  that  she  is  not  a  bright 
companion  for  her." 

"  Has  she  a  father  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  fear  he  is  no  comfort  in  his  home. 
He  earns  good  wages,  but  brings  very  little  of  them 
home.  Besides  that,  he  is  often  very  cross  and 
rough,  as  if  he  had  no  patience  with  poor  Birdie." 

"  Is  Birdie  her  real  name  ?  "  asked  Maude. 

"  No  ;  Fanny  is  her  right  name,  but  her  mother 
calls  her  Birdie  because  she  is  always  singing.  She 
looks  very  sadly,  poor  child,  though,  very  often." 

After  a  little  further  chat  Mrs.  Cameron  and 
Maude  took  leave,  taking  with  them  a  pleasant  re- 
membrance of  the  contented  faces  in  the  cabin. 

"  I  think  we  have  really  helped  to  make  them  a 
little  happier,  mother  ;  don't  you  ? "  said  Maude  as 
they  walked  home. 

"  Yes,  dear,  indeed  I  do.  The  boys  will  be  pleased 
to  hear  how  much  their  work  is  appreciated." 

As   they  entered  the  garden  they  found   Bernard 


Two  Little  Londoners.  123 

busy  with  his  coat  off,  but  looking  very  hot  with 
gardening. 

"  Why,  mother,  you  look  as  hot  as  I  do,"  he 
said ;  "  come  and  sit  down  in  the  shade.  Won't 
Stourcliffe  be  delicious  after  this  intense  heat  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  will ;  and  we  shall  enjoy  our 
holiday  all  the  more  for  having  had  plenty  of  work 
to  do  before." 

"Where  have  you  been,  mother?  To  old  Christie's?" 

"  Yes.  The  next  few  days  will  be  very  busy  ones, 
so  I  thought  I  would  go  at  once  and  see  how  they 
were  all  getting  on." 

"  Well,  and  how  did  you  find  them  ?  " 

"  Mary  was  looking  very  comfortable.  She  is 
already  busy  at  the  work  Miss  Neville  has  sent  her. 
And  as  to  old  Christie,  he  is  quite  a  picture  of  con- 
tent. You  have  helped  to  make  them  very  happy, 
my  boy." 

Bernard  did  not  say  anything,  but  he  got  a  little 
redder,  and  a  pleased,  happy  expression  overspread 
his  face. 

"  In  this  world  of  many  sorrows  it  is  a  great  privilege 
to  be  able  to  brighten  the  hearts  of  any  sad  ones, 
and  help  to  lighten  their  burden.  There  are  many 
kind  actions  done  in  these  days  from  simple  kindness 
and  goodness  o'f  heart,  which  we  may  call  philanthropy, 
but  there  is  something  far  higher,  my  Bernard.  There 
is  a  sympathy  and  love  that  goes  out  to  our  fellow- 


124  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

men  and  women  when  we  truly  love  Christ  and  are 
in  touch  with  Him  which  is  something  altogether 
different.  If  we  are  His  we  want  to  walk  even  as 
He  walked.  We  want  to  be  merciful  because  He  was 
merciful,  and  He  would  have  us  be  like  Him." 

Bernard  was  silent,  so  Mrs.  Cameron  said  presently 
in  a  low  voice — 

"  Which  is  it  with  you,  Bernard  ?  " 

It  was  very  hard  for  Bernard  to  speak  of  the 
things  he  felt  most  deeply,  but  there  was  a  wonderful 
bond  between  this  mother  and  son  ;  if  he  could  tell 
any  one  he  could  tell  her.  So  he  said  slowly — 

"  I  think,  mother,  that  lately  it  has  been  the  last." 

Mrs.  Cameron  glanced  up  at  the  honest  boy-face 
with  a  glad  look,  and  he  was  encouraged  to  say  more. 

"  It  was  the  night  before  the  Confirmation,  mother. 
I  felt  I  could  not  make  that  solemn  promise  without 
I  really  meant  to  be  Christ's  altogether.  But  I  find 
some  things  are  much  harder  to  do  than  being  kind." 

"  Yes,  that  will  be  so ;  you  have  naturally  a  kind, 
warm  heart,  that  is  willing  to  help  others.  It  is 
harder  for  you  to  keep  down  a  high  spirit,  envy, 
jealousy,  and  such  things.  Is  it  not  so,  Bernard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  that  is  just  it,"  said  Bernard,  hang- 
ing down  his  head.  "  I  felt  awfully  jealous  when  I 
saw  Campbell  carrying  off  the  English  Literature  prize. 
I  was  downright  ashamed  of  myself." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  his  mother  quietly. 


Two  Little  Londoners.  125 

"  How  did  you  know,  mother  ?  I  hoped  nobody 
guessed,  for  I  felt  horrid." 

"  I  don't  think  anybody  did  but  your  mother 
and  God,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "  I  hope  you  went 
straight  to  Him  and  asked  for  forgiveness,  Bernard. 
What  a  comfort  it  is  for  you  young  ones  to  have 
such  a  Friend !  I  know  how  hard  it  is  to  many 
to  talk  about  these  things,  but  you  need  never  be 
shy  with  Him,  never  fear  that  He  will  misunder- 
stand you." 

"  Thank  you,  mother  mine,"  said  Bernard  ;  "  there 
is  no  one  helps  a  fellow  to  do  right  like  his  mother." 

"  Yes,  Bernard,  Christ  can,  for  He  loves  you  even 
better  than  your  mother." 

Just  then  Dr.  Cameron  came  across  the  lawn 
towards  them. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  he  said,  seating  himself,  "  I  think 
we  will  try  and  carry  out  the  plan  you  proposed  this 
morning." 

"  What  was  that  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  plan  of  taking  two  poor  children  down 
to  Stourcliffe  with  us." 

"  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad.  Then  you  have  come  to  my 
way  of  thinking  ?  " 

"  Do  I  not  generally  find  my  wife  is  right  ?  "  said 
the  Doctor,  laughing. 

"  He  does  not  always  say  so,  does  he,  Bernard  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "  But  what  has  made  you  come 


126  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

to  this  decision  ?  Have  you  found  some  children  that 
you  think  would  be  better  for  a  change  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  just  it.  But  the  worst  of  it  is,  that 
when  you  begin  to  think  about  the  subject,  there  are 
so  many  to  choose  from." 

"  You  have  been  at  the  Dispensary,  of  course,  to-day." 

"  Yes ;  and  with  this  plan  in  my  head,  I  felt  each 
child  looked  worse  than  the  last." 

"  That  is  very  awkward,  father,  for  certainly  you 
cannot  take  them  all,"  said  Bernard. 

"  No,  that  is  just  it.  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
about  one  at  any  rate.  I  have  known  the  child  for 
some  time,  and  she  has  interested  me  very  much.  As 
I  drove  home  to-day,  I  thought  I  would  look  her  up, 
and  see  if  her  home  was  as  wretched  as  I  had  pic- 
tured it." 

"  And  was  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  only  a  great  deal  worse.  The  father  is  a 
bargeman  on  the  river,  a  low  type  of  man,  and  I  hardly 
know  how  he  comes  to  have  such  a  nice  little  daughter. 
The  mother,  it  seems,  is  dead,  and  the  elder  sister 
is  supposed  to  look  after  the  home.  I  fear  she  has 
mostly  neglected  it.  The  place  was  dreadfully  dirty, 
and  a  boy  I  saw  said  his  elder  sister  was  always 
going  out  and  leaving  them  to  do  as  they  could.  I 
expect  the  father  drinks  ;  but  the  boy  struck  me  as 
very  loyal,  and  evidently  had  no  intention  of  showing 
up  the  family  troubles  more  than  was  necessary.  In 


Two  Little  Londoners.  127 

deed,  I  could  hardly  get  anything  out  of  him  till  I 
began  talking  of  Milly ;  then  he  warmed  up  consider- 
ably. The  child  came  in  while  I  was  there,  and  you 
should  have  seen  her  face  when  I  asked  if  she  would 
like  to  go  into  the  country." 

"  Poor  child  !  " 

"  Tommy — that  is  the  boy — seemed  half  alarmed  at 
first  at  the  idea  of  his  little  sister  going  away  so  far ; 
he  seems  to  consider  himself  her  chief  protector ;  but 
when  I  told  him  my  own  children  were  going  too  he 
seemed  satisfied." 

"  But  will  the  father  and  sister  consent  ?  " 

"  Well,  fortunately  the  young  lady  came  in  just  as 
I  was  leaving,  so  I  was  able  to  hear  what  she  had  to 
say  about  it.  She  made  no  objection,  as  you  may 
suppose ;  indeed,  I  think  she  is  very  glad  to  get  rid 
of  her  for  a  while.  So,  my  dear,  you  see  we  have  got 
one  child.  What  about  another  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  have  another." 

"  Indeed.     Who  is  that  ?  " 

"A  little  blind  girl  who  lives  in  the  big  lodging- 
house  that  Mary  has  just  left  in  town." 

"  Then  you  had  better  make  arrangements  at  once," 
said  the  Doctor  in  his  prompt  way. 

"  I  wonder  what  Rogers  will  say  to  it  all ;  a  great 
deal  depends  on  the  view  she  takes  of  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Cameron. 

"  Oh  !  she  is  a  good  old  soul,  is  Rogers,"  said  the 


128  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

Doctor.  "  You  put  it  to  her  in  the  right  way,  and 
she  will  be  pleased  as  possible  to  make  the  children 
happy.  They  will  be  out  of  doors  all  day,  and  be  no 
trouble  to  anybody." 

"  I  will  go  and  talk  to  Rogers  at  once,"  said  Mrs. 
Cameron,  rising.  She  had  gone  a  little  way,  when 
she  heard  the  Doctor  calling  to  her — 

"  My  dear,  I  forgot  to  say  that  I  don't  think  my 
little  girl  has  many  clothes  to  her  back." 

Mrs.  Cameron  looked  a  little  dismayed.  "  Oh 
Allan  !  and  we  are  so  busy." 

"  Ethel  and  I  can  help  mother,"  said  Maude,  who 
had  joined  the  group  just  after  her  father. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron  cheerfully.  "  I 
think  we  can  soon  get  a  few  clothes  together.  It 
seemed  rather  overwhelming  for  the  moment  to  have 
to  think  of  any  more  clothes  than  are  needed  for  the 
family."  Then  she  turned  and  went  into  the  house. 

As  the  Doctor  had  said,  Rogers  was  a  very  kind 
old  soul,  though  she  had  a  peculiar  side,  like  most 
other  people.  She  had  lived  with  the  Camerons  since 
Bernard  was  a  baby,  and  considered  herself  as  quite 
part  of  the  family,  as  indeed  she  was.  Any  joy  or 
sorrow  that  touched  them  touched  her,  and  she  knew 
that  she  had  always  kind,  sympathising  friends  in  her 
master  and  mistress.  Now  Mrs.  Cameron  told  of  her 
plan  with  some  fear  that  Rogers  would  not,  perhaps, 
take  to  it  as  kindly  as  the  Doctor  expected. 


Two  Little  Londoners.  129 

When  Mrs.  Cameron  had  finished  she  stood  silent, 
but  Rogers'  face  seemed  to  say  plainly,  "  I  should  have 
thought  there  were  plenty  of  children  without  taking 
any  more." 

"  There  is  so  little  we  can  do  for  the  Master's 
sake,  Rogers,  is  there  not  ?  I  so  often  think  of  the 
words,  '  Bear  ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfil 
the  law  of  Christ,' "  said  Mrs.  Cameron,  taking  no 
notice  of  her  silence. 

"  I  didn't  think  of  that,  Ma'am,"  she  said  slowly. 
"If  you  think  it  would  please  Him,  I  am  sure  I'm 
willing." 

Mrs.  Cameron  had  touched  the  right  chord. 
Rogers  did  love  her  Saviour  truly,  and  anything 
she  could  do  for  His  sake  was  always  sweet  to  her. 

And  so  it  was  settled  that  two  children  out  of  the 
multitude  of  London's  little  ones  should  share  the 
joys  and  pleasures  of  the  Camerons'  seaside  holiday. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

STOURCLIFFE. 

'URING  the  few  days  that  remained  before 
the  family  was  to  move  to  Stourcliffe  there 
was,  as  Mrs.  Cameron  said,  plenty  to  do ;  but 
when  everybody  is  willing  to  do  his  share  cheerfully, 
it  makes  all  the  difference.  It  was  a  great  packing 
up,  and  no  mistake  about  it,  for  the  whole  household 
migrated  to  the  sea,  leaving  The  Chestnuts  in  sole  care 
of  the  gardener  and  his  wife.  But  in  spite  of  all 
there  was  to  do,  Mrs.  Cameron  did  not  forget  Milly's 
clothes.  Ethel  had  suggested  that  a  friend  in  the 
neighbourhood,  who  had  a  little  girl  of  Milly's  age, 
would  perhaps  have  some  discarded  garments,  and 
accordingly  she  had  set  off  early  one  morning  to 
enlist  Mrs.  Thome's  sympathy.  The  result  had  been 
even  more  than  Ethel  hoped  for;  so,  with  Maude's 
help  in  a  little  altering  and  mending,  the  clothes  were 
ready  for  Milly  by  the  appointed  day.  Little  Arthur 
Ferrers  was  in  and  out  continually,  for  he  was  so  ex- 
cited he  could  not  keep  still,  and  Mrs.  Cameron  needed 

130 


Stourcliffe.  1 3 1 

all  her  patience  to  bear  with  the  many  interruptions. 
But  in  the  midst  of  his  own  pleasure  he  did  not  for- 
get his  grandfather,  and  Mr.  Ferrers  noticed  him  several 
times,  on  the  last  day,  looking  very  wistfully  at  him. 

"  Grandpapa,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  do  wish  you 
were  going  too." 

"  My  travelling  days  are  over,  Arthur." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  you  would  not  rather  that  I 
stayed  with  you  ?  Won't  you  be  very  lonely  ?  " 

"  I  shall  miss  you  very  much,  Arthur,  I  know,  for 
you  have  been  my  little  comforter.  But  I  am  glad  to 
have  you  go,  because  I  think  it  will  do  you  good." 

"  Mrs.  Cameron  says  Jesus  can  comfort  us  better 
than  anybody  else.  He  comforts  you,  grandpapa, 
doesn't  He  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  that,  Arthur,"  said  Mr. 
Ferrers  uneasily. 

"  Don't  you  ?  I  am  so  sorry.  I  hoped  you  knew 
all  about  Him,"  said  Arthur,  with  a  troubled  face. 

"  Never  mind,  Arthur ;  you  will  be  my  little  com- 
forter again  when  you  come  back,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I'll  try.  Mother  said  I  was  to  try  and  make 
you  glad,  but,  you  see,  I  am  only  a  little  boy,  and  I 
didn't  know  how ;  so  I  ask  Jesus  to  teach  me  every 
day  how  to  make  you  glad." 

"  Now  run  away  and  play,  my  boy,"  said  Mr. 
Ferrers  rather  hurriedly,  but  at  the  same  time  draw- 
ing the  child  to  him  and  kissing  him  tenderly. 


132  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

The  next  morning  every  one  was  up  early  at  The 
Chestnuts,  and  all  stood  in  readiness  when  the  omnibus 
from  the  railway  station  arrived  which  was  to  convey 
them  to  Victoria.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Cameron,  with  Maude 
and  Leslie,  were  to  drive  down  in  the  carriage,  so 
that  there  was  room  for  the  others  and  the  luggage. 

Milly  had  been  brought  to  the  house  at  breakfast- 
time,  and  looked  quite  a  different  child  already,  attired 
in  her  new  clothes  and  with  a  radiantly  happy  face. 
It  had  been  arranged  for  Birdie  to  join  them  at  Vic- 
toria, as  her  mother  was  quite  able  to  take  her  there. 
There  seemed  no  end  to  the  packages,  and  it  took  some 
management  to  stow  them  away  so  that  the  top  of  the 
omnibus  might  take  them  all.  But  at  last  they  were 
all  up,  and  the  whole  party  very  willingly  said  "  Good- 
bye "  to  The  Chestnuts  and  work  for  a  time. 

The  house  which  Dr.  Cameron  had  rented  some 
three  years  before  at  Stourcliffe  for  the  benefit  of 
his  children  stood  on  a  cliff  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  away  from  the  town  itself.  It  was  a  roomy 
family  dwelling,  though  now  somewhat  dilapidated. 
Attached  to  it,  and  yet  quite  separate,  was  a  farm, 
which  was  worked  by  a  man  who  lived  in  what  was 
called  the  farm-cottage ;  so  that  the  Camerons  had  all 
the  benefits  of  a  farm-house,  without  the  trouble  of  it. 
The  building  was  picturesque  enough  in  itself,  built  of 
dark-red  brick,  which  was,  however,  almost  completely 
hidden  by  well- trained  ivy,  which  grew  round  the  case- 


Stourcliffe.  133 

ment-windows.  There  was  ample  room  within,  and 
the  Doctor  had  furnished  it  with  comfort,  though  very 
simply  and  at  small  expense.  Some  large  trees  gave 
a  delicious  shelter  from  the  sun  during  the  hot  days, 
and  from  its  high  position  on  the  cliff  a  glorious  view 
of  sea  and  coast-land  could  be  had  from  the  windows. 
This  was  the  children's  country  home,  which  this  time 
the  pale  little  Londoners  were  to  enjoy  with  them. 

Directly  Milly  saw  Birdie's  sweet  face  at  Victoria 
Station  she  seemed  drawn  to  her  at  once,  and  both 
children  were  soon  quite  at  ease  with  their  new 
friends.  Rogers  appeared  willing  from  the  first  to 
extend  to  the  little  strangers  a  sort  of  motherly  pro- 
tection, which  was  shared  by  the  other  servants,  so 
that  there  was  no  fear  of  their  not  being  well  cared  for. 
At  Stourcliffe  Station  they  found  a  wagonette  and  cart 
for  the  luggage  awaiting  them,  but  the  boys  preferred 
walking  along  the  cliff,  glad  to  find  themselves  at  last 
within  sight  of  the  sea.  The  farm  had  many  advan- 
tages, its  complete  seclusion  from  the  road  enabling 
the  young  people  to  do  just  what  they  liked.  A  private 
path  led  down  to  the  shore,  which  afforded  a  splendid 
bathing-place,  while  Stourcliffe  itself  was  within  easy 
reach  when  they  desired  more  amusement. 

This  year  the  Doctor  had  prepared  a  surprise  for 
them.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening  they  were  much 
astonished  to  hear  the  sound  of  light  wheels  upon  the 
gravel-path.  At  such  an  unusual  noise  most  of  the 


134  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

family  ran  out  to  see  what  could  be  coming,  and  to 
their  astonishment  there  stood  at  the  front-door  a 
pretty,  low  carriage,  drawn  by  a  well-groomed  donkey, 
a  boy  standing  at  its  head. 

"  Mother,  do  come  out,"  cried  Ethel.  "  Here  is  the 
prettiest  little  carriage  and  donkey  that  I  have  ever 
seen.  Where  can  it  have  come  from  ?  " 

Mrs.  Cameron,  hearing  the  excitement,  now  appeared 
at  the  door,  and  joined  in  the  general  admiration. 

"Whose  is  it?"  she  asked.      Then  glancing  at  her 
husband's  face,  she  read  there  the  whole  story.     "  Oh 
Allan  !  this  is  good  of  you,"  she  said.     "  How  did  you 
manage  to  do  it  all  so  quietly  ?      I  am  sure  we  none 
of  us  dreamt  of  such  a  surprise.      It  is  the  prettiest 
carriage  and  the  most  charming  donkey  I  ever  saw." 
"  You  like  it,  then  ?  "  the  Doctor  said. 
"  Yes,  indeed.      How  could  we  help  liking  it  ?     It 
will  be  most  useful  here,  and  just  what  we  wanted." 

"  The  donkey,  I  believe,  goes  splendidly,"  said  the 
Doctor.      "It  has  been  well  cared  for,  as  you  see." 
"  Yes;  it  looks  as  proud  as  possible." 
"  It  has  been  a  great  pet  with  a  lady  who  is  lately 
dead,  and  her  relatives  were  very  anxious  to  find  a 
good  home  for  it." 

"  Come,  mother,  you  must  have  a  drive  at  once," 
said  Bernard.  "  Here,  Hubert  and  Arthur,  you  get 
in  first,  and  have  the  honour  of  the  first  drive."  And 
so  they  set  off,  looking  a  very  happy  party  as  the 
Doctor  stood  and  watched  them. 


Stourcliffe.  135 

The  next  morning  everybody  was  eager  for  bathing, 
the  Doctor  going  out  before  breakfast  with  his  boys, 
and  the  girls  following  later,  provided  with  their  tent, 
which  was  quickly  put  up  upon  the  shore.  They 
were  all  content  to  do  very  little  that  first  day  beyond 
enjoying  a  sense  of  rest  and  having  nothing  to  do, 
which  is  so  pleasant  after  hard  work.  Perhaps  no 
one  enjoyed  the  happy  life  more  than  the  blind  child 
Birdie.  It  was  touching  to  see  her  walking  along 
hand-in-hand  with  her  little  companion  Milly,  listening 
eagerly  to  all  she  told  her  of  the  beautiful  scenes 
around  her.  The  child  loved  to  be  taken  down  to 
the  water's  edge  and  be  allowed  to  dip  her  hands  into 
the  rippling  waves,  and  she  would  be  content  to  sit 
for  the  hour  together  listening  to  them  plashing 
against  the  rocks. 

"  Do  you  like  it  very  much  ?  "  asked  Maude  one 
day,  as  she  found  her  sitting  and  listening  to  the 
sounds  intently. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Birdie,  her  face  lighting  up 
with  one  of  its  brightest  smiles.  "  Isn't  it  all  beau- 
tiful ?  Did  God  really  make  it  all  ? "  she  asked 
wonderingly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Maude,  "  God  made  it  all.  Was  it  not 
kind  and  good  of  Him  to  give  us  so  much  to  enjoy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  He  must  be  very  kind,"  said  Birdie  thought- 
fully. "  Harry  said  he  was  sure  that  God  knew  I 
was  blind.  '  Do  you  think  so,  Miss  Maude  ?  " 


136  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  He  does,  because  God  knows 
everything." 

"Harry  said  that  Jesus  was  very  good  to  blind 
people  when  He  was  here  on  earth.  You  see,  he 
knew  all  the  stories  in  the  Bible,  but  my  mother  does 
not  read  them  to  me,  as  his  mother  does.  I  think 
I  can't  help  loving  Him  for  being  so  good  to  us." 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  read  to  you  sometimes  ?  " 
asked  Maude. 

"  Oh  yes,  please  ;  and  then  I  should  know  all  these 
beautiful  stories,  and  Milly  will  hear  them  too.  Do 
you  know,  she  has  hardly  heard  anything  about  God. 
She  does  not  know  any  one  who  loves  Him." 

"  Poor  little  Milly  !  "  said  Maude,  and  then  she  was 
silent  for  a  time,  listening  as  intently  as  Birdie  to  the 
waves,  and  thinking  how  good  God  had  been  to  her. 
Young  as  she  was,  she  felt  she  might  do  something  to 
tell  of  His  great  love  to  these  little  stranger  children 
who  had  no  one  to  teach  them  about  Him. 

All  at  once  she  was  startled  by  a  great  rush  down 
the  cliff.  First  came  Bernard  and  Leslie,  followed  by 
Hubert  and  Arthur. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  should  have 
thought  you  would  be  hot  enough  in  this  sun  without 
rushing  about  like  wild  Indians." 

"  Look,  Maude,"  said  Bernard,  "  that  is  the  excite- 
ment," pointing  to  what  looked  like  a  speck  upon 
the  sea, 


Stourcliffe.  137 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Why,  father  has  been  into  Stourcliffe  again  to 
try  and  hire  us  a  boat,  and  we  believe  the  man  is 
bringing  her  round.  Won't  it  be  jolly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  splendid,"  said  Maude,  now  joining  in  the 
excitement. 

"  How  long  will  you  give  her  before  she  gets  in  ?  " 
asked  Leslie. 

"  I'll  give  her  ten  minutes,"  said  Bernard. 

"  I'll  say  five,"  said  Leslie. 

"  I  will  say  ten,"  said  little  Arthur,  who  always 
followed  Bernard's  leading. 

"  I  have  my  watch,"  said  Bernard,  taking  it  out. 
"  It  is  hot,  certainly.  I  shall  go  and  sit  down  under 
that  bit  of  shade  and  wait." 

Five  minutes  passed. 

"  Where  is  your  boat,  Leslie  ?  Your  five  minutes 
is  up." 

"  I  expect  the  tide's  all  against  her,"  said  Leslie. 

"  Of  course  it  is  ;   I  calculated  for  that." 

In  five  minutes  more  the  boat  grated  against  the 
rock,  and  the  boys  gave  a  cheer. 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Fairy  !  "  they  cried. 

They  wanted  to  go  for  a  row  there  and  then,  but 
the  dinner-bell  was  heard  ringing  on  the  top  of  the 
cliff,  so  they  could  not  stop  longer  than  to  assist  the 
boatman  in  pulling  her  up  to  a  safe  place  on  the 
shore. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FIREMEN   NEEDED. 

{HE  same  evening  of  the  arrival  of  the  boat,  as 
some  of  the  party  were  coming  home  from  a 
row  just  at  dusk,  they  thought  they  saw  a 
peculiar  light  a  short  distance  inland.  At  first  some 
one  suggested  that  it  was  the  moon  rising,  but  they 
soon  remembered  that  it  would  rise  in  quite  an 
opposite  direction. 

"  Can  it  be  a  fire,  father  ?  "  asked  Bernard. 

"  It  looks  very  much  like  it,"  he  said,  at  the  same 
time  taking  the  oar  from  Leslie's  hand  and  giving  some 
good  strokes,  which  soon  brought  them  to  shore. 

"  It  must  be  very  near,"  said  Leslie. 

"  Not  so  near  as  you  would  think,  probably.  We 
will  try  and  find  out  at  any  rate." 

The  boat  was  soon  hauled  up,  and  the  whole 
party  went  rapidly  up  the  cliff.  Then  they  could  see 
at  once  that  it  was  a  fire.  They  stopped  at  the  house 
for  a  moment  to  tell  the  others,  and  Maude  and  Ethel 
joined  them  directly.  No  one  was  to  be  seen  about 

138 


Firemen  Needed.  139 

the  farm  ;  no  doubt  all  hands  had  gone  off  at  once 
to  see  whether  they  could  render  assistance,  so  they 
could  only  be  led  on  by  the  light. 

A  turn  in  the  road,  however,  showed  them  that  it 
was  at  the  next  farm,  a  small  one,  which  lay  almost 
half-way  to  Stourcliffe. 

"  Is  it  a  stack,  father,  do  you  think  ? "  asked 
Hubert. 

"  Very  likely.  It  is  to  be  hoped  there  are  no 
buildings  near." 

"  I  think  there  are.  I  believe  I  noticed  a  barn  and 
a  cottage  very  near  to  it  the  last  time  I  walked  into 
Stourcliffe,"  said  Bernard. 

"  I  wish  we  were  there,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Are  you  getting  tired  ?  "  asked  Ethel.  "  Take 
ray  hand  and  let  me  help  you  along." 

Arthur  took  the  offered  hand  very  willingly,  though 
he  would  not  for  a  moment  allow  that  he  was  tired. 
Presently  they  were  near  enough  to  hear  the  shouts 
of  the  men  as  they  called  to  one  another ;  and  in 
two  or  three  minutes  they  could  see  them  dancing, 
as  they  appeared,  around  the  burning  mass. 

"  The  fire  has  taken  great  hold,  I  fear,"  said  the 
Doctor.  "  Here,  Bernard,  you  and  I  had  better  go 
on  quicker ;  every  moment  is  of  importance.  Perhaps 
we  can  help  with  the  water." 

There  had  been  no  one,  unfortunately,  to  take  the 
lead,  and  the  supply  of  water  had  not  been  utilised 
to  the  best  advantage. 


140  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

"  Here's  the  Doctor,"  cried  one  man,  catching  sight 
of  him.  "  Cheers  for  the  Doctor.  Now  we  shall  do." 

Without  hardly  appearing  to  do  so,  the  Doctor  at 
once  took  the  lead.  He  had  taken  in  the  position  in 
a  moment,  and  saw  that  without  well-directed  efforts 
to  bring  the  flames  under  the  barn  must  go ;  and  then 
a  cottage  stood  hard  by,  as  Bernard  said.  Happily 
there  was  a  pond  not  far  away,  which  gave  a  fair 
supply  of  water,  and  a  good  many  strong  fellows 
willingly  did  the  hardest  work.  At  the  Doctor's 
direction  a  chain  of  men  passed  the  buckets  on  from 
one  to  another  as  rapidly  as  possible ;  women,  too, 
being  among  the  number ;  and  Bernard  and  Leslie 
also  took  their  places  among  them.  Ethel  and  Maude, 
with  the  two  younger  boys,  stood  apart  gazing  at  the 
exciting  scene,  and  longing  to  be  of  some  assistance. 
The  men  worked  their  hardest,  but  the  hay  was  dry, 
and  a  breeze  springing  up,  blew  the  flames  towards  the 
barn  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts.  Then  a  murmur 
went  through  the  crowd,  "  The  cottage  !  the  cottage  !  " 

"There's  plenty  of  time  for  that,"  said  several 
voices  ;  "  the  cottage  is  all  right." 

"  Who  lives  in  the  cottage  ? "  asked  Ethel  of  a 
woman  standing  by.  "  Is  it  not  old  Mrs.  Wilson  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  ;  and  a  queer  body  she  is,  too.  I  doubt 
whether  they'll  ever  persuade  her  to  leave  the  old 
place." 

"  Poor  old  body  ! "  said   Ethel.      Then  turning  to 


Firemen  Needed.  141 

Maude,  she  whispered,  "  Don't  you  think  we  might  find 
the  old  woman  and  comfort  her  a  little  ?  She  must 
be  dreadfully  frightened.  I  think  we  might  go  round 
and  see  if  she  is  in  the  cottage." 

By  skirting  the  little  crowd  they  were  able  to  make 
their  way  to  the  main  road,  and  so  gained  an  entrance 
to  the  cottage  garden.  Just  as  they  reached  the  gate 
a  fire-engine  from  Stourcliffe  came  tearing  up,  and 
immediately  set  to  work. 

Ethel  and  Maude  walked  up  the  little  pathway  to 
the  cottage-door,  and  could  then  see  the  old  woman 
inside,  with  her  head  bowed  in  her  hands  and  trem- 
bling violently.  Two  or  three  neighbours  stood  by 
her,  but  they  did  not  look  very  sympathetic.  The 
fact  was,  the  old  woman  had  shut  herself  up  like  an 
oyster  for  years,  resenting  any  overtures  of  her  neigh- 
bours and  repelling  all  love.  Now  it  was  duty,  not 
love,  that  had  brought  them  to  her  in  her  trouble. 
Ethel  went  in  quietly  and  sat  down  beside  her — the 
fair  young  girl  of  seventeen  looking  a  strange  contrast 
to  the  wrinkled,  bent  old  woman.  Her  warm  young 
heart  was  touched  by  the  deep  trouble  she  saw  before 
her,  and  she  thought  of  nothing  but  that  here  was 
some  one  who  needed  comforting. 

"  I  am  so  very  sorry  for  you,"  she  said  kindly, 
placing  her  hand  on  the  old  woman's  worn  one. 

The  voice  must  have  struck  her  as  strange,  for  she 
looked  up  apparently  to  see  who  it  belonged  to. 


142  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  I  am  Ethel  Cameron.  I  came  to  see  if  I  could 
help  you  at  all." 

"  Cameron  ?  I've  heard  tell  the  name.  You're  one 
of  the  gentlefolks  at  the  farm  on  the  hill,  hain't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  live  at  the  farm ;  so  you  see  we  are  near 
neighbours." 

"  What  have  you  come  nigh  me  for  ?  I  never  asked 
nobody  to  come,"  she  said  roughly. 

"  No ;  but  you  do  not  mind  my  telling  you  how 
sorry  we  are  for  you.  I  am  sure  you  must  be  very 
frightened  ;  but  an  engine  has  just  come  from  Stour- 
cliffe,  and  we  hope  the  fire  will  soon  be  quelled." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  "  she  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes  ;  I  quite  hope  so.  My  sister  is  here  with  me. 
I  will  ask  her  to  go  and  see  how  they  are  getting  on." 

As  Ethel  spoke  there  was  a  loud  shout,  and  the 
cottage  was  lighted  up  by  a  brilliant  light.  The  roof 
of  the  barn  had  fallen  in  with  a  great  crash,  and 
thousands  of  sparks  were  flying  upwards.  Then 
Ethel  heard  a  cry — "  We  must  save  the  cottage  !  " 
The  neighbours  that  had  been  with  the  old  woman 
when  Ethel  and  Maude  entered  had  slipped  away, 
with  a  feeling  that  they  had  done  their  duty. 

"You  will  come  with  me  now,"  said  Ethel  in  a 
gentle  but  firm  voice.  "  Don't  be  afraid  ;  let  me 
take  care  of  you." 

There  was  something  irresistible  in  Ethel's  sweet 
voice,  and  the  old  woman,  who  before  had  appeared 


Firemen  Needed.  143 

deaf  to  the  rough  entreaties  of  her  neighbours,  now 
rose,  and  leaning  on  the  young  girl,  stepped  out  of  the 
cottage.  The  fire  had  not  as  yet  touched  it,  and  the 
engine  was  playing  on  the  corner  of  the  barn  nearest 
to  it,  in  the  hope  of  still  saving  it. 

Dr.  Cameron  had  been  so  intent  on  getting  the 
fire  under  that  he  had  for  the  moment  forgotten  all 
about  his  girls,  and  looking  towards  the  cottage,  he 
was  astonished  to  see  the  bent  form  of  the  old 
woman  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  own  daughter. 

Ethel  led  her  to  a  bank  at  a  safe  distance  from 
the  crowd,  and  made  her  sit  down.  Every  one  was 
working  now  with  redoubled  energy,  for  the  flames 
still  rose  high,  and  the  Doctor,  like  many  others, 
feared  greatly  for  the  cottage!  Ethel  felt  deeply  for 
the  poor  old  woman  sitting  there  so  helplessly,  and 
every  moment  expecting  to  see  the  cottage  that  had 
been  her  home  from  girlhood  burnt  to  the  ground. 
Just  then  the  wind  seemed  to  go  down,  there  was  a  hush 
among  the  trees,  and  gradually  the  flames  subsided  ; 
then  every  one  knew  that  the  cottage  was  saved. 

Ethel  had  sat  silently  by  the  old  woman,  feeling 
that  no  words  of  hers  could  comfort  her  at  such  a 
time ;  now,  when  the  great  dread  was  over,  she  bade 
the  old  woman  look  up. 

"  See,"  she  said,  "  the  flames  are  getting  lower 
and  lower,  and  the  wind  has  gone  down.  I  think 
all  is  safe  now.  You  must  be  very  thankful." 


144  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

The  old  woman  made  no  answer.  Thanksgiving 
had  never  been  part  of  her  life;  she  had  never  learned 
to  look  to  God  as  the  Giver  of  all  good. 

Ethel  was  quite  startled  when  she  heard  her  say 
presently  in  response — "  I'll  be  bound  it's  all  the 
work  of  one  of  these  wretched  gipsy-boys.  I'd  not 
leave  a  whole  bone  in  their  bodies  if  I  could  only  get 
hold  of  them." 

Ethel  quite  shuddered  at  her  revengeful  words, 
and  even  more  at  the  way  they  were  said,  but 
she  said  quietly — "  It  is  very  wrong  if  the  mischief 
has  been  wantonly  done  by  boys ;  but  when  we  think 
of  the  wrongdoing  of  others,  we  ought  never  to 
forget  how  much  God  has  to  forgive  us." 

It  was  no  time  to  say  more  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
bustle  and  confusion,  but  Ethel  looked  pitifully  at  the 
aged  woman  beside  her,  who  seemed  so  resolutely  to 
shut  out  all  thought  of  God  and  His  great  love.  Ethel 
led  her  gently  back  to  the  cottage,  fearing  that  her 
father  might  be  waiting.  There  was  nothing  now  left 
to  be  done.  The  stack  and  barn  lay  level  with  the 
ground,  and  still  smouldered.  She  quickly  found  Ber- 
nard and  Leslie,  looking  tired  and  dirty,  and  in  another 
moment  Dr.  Cameron  joined  them  with  the  others. 

"  Now  let  us  go  home  as  quickly  as  we  can,"  he 
said.  "  Why,  Bernard,  you  are  as  black  as  a  sweep ; 
and  I  suppose  I  am  the  same,  if  I  could  only  see 
myself.  Was  that  old  Mrs.  Wilson,  Ethel  ?  " 


Firemen  Needed.  145 

"Yes,  father.  She  seems  a  strange  old  woman. 
The  neighbours  had  tried  to  persuade  her  to  leave 
the  cottage,  but  she  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  I  don't 
think  she  half  understood  the  danger." 

"  I  am  very  thankful  her  cottage  is  saved,  poor 
old  body  !  whatever  she  may  think  of  it.  If  the  wind 
had  not  lulled  just  when  it  did,  I  believe  nothing  we 
could  have  done  would  have  saved  it." 

"  I  thought  'she  would  be  so  thankful  when  she 
heard  that  all  danger  was  past ;  but  instead  of  that, 
she  seemed  full  of  revenge  to  the  boys  who  she  thinks 
were  the  cause  of  the  fire." 

"  Of  course,  it  is  a  dreadful  thing  for  boys 
wantonly  or  even  carelessly  to  set  fire  to  a  stack, 
and  they  ought  certainly  to  be  punished  for  it.  But 
revenge  is  another  matter ;  revenge  is  a  very  awful 
thing,  especially  when  we  remember  how  far  we  all 
come  short  of  what  God  would  have  us  be.  It  would 
be  a  sorry  thing  for  us  if  God  treated  us  accord- 
ing to  the  way  we  treat  Him.  How  different  to  our 
Lord's  words  on  the  cross,  '  Forgive  them,  Father, 
for  they  know  not  what  they  do ' ! " 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  gate  leading  up 
to  the  farm,  and  there  they  found  Mrs.  Cameron  with 
the  rest  of  the  household.  This  point  had  given  them 
an  excellent  view  of  the  fire,  and  they  had  watched 
it  till  they  saw  the  flames  gradually  get  lower. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last,"  she  said  gladly,  "  my  poor, 


146  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

weary   firemen.      I    can    see  you    and    Bernard   and 
father  have  all  been  at  work,"  she  said  to  Leslie. 

"We  are  hot  and  tired  and  dirty,  mother,"  said 
Bernard,  "but  I •  would  not  have  missed  it  for  any- 
thing. A  fire  is  certainly  most  exciting ;  and,  be- 
sides, I  really  think  we  helped  a  little.  Father  was 
splendid,"  said  the  boy,  looking  at  his  father  proudly  ; 
"  he  always  seems  to  know  just  the  best  way  of  set- 
ting about  anything.  You  should  have  seen,  mother, 
how  the  men  looked  to  him." 

"  There  is  some  one  else  here  who  has  helped  too," 
said  Dr.  Cameron  kindly,  putting  his  hand  on  Ethel's 
shoulder. 

"  Oh  !  father  dear,  I  did  not  do  anything,"  said 
Ethel,  blushing. 

"  I  do  not  think  our  Master  would  say  so,  dear 
child.  He  who  told  us  that  even  a  cup  of  cold  water 
given  in  His  name  should  not  lose  its  reward  will 
not  forget  your  sympathy  and  help  to  an  old  woman 
in  her  trouble." 

The  simple  words  of  commendation  fell  very 
sweetly  on  Ethel's  ears,  and  as  she  took  her  father's 
arm  and  walked  slowly  up  to  the  house  she  felt  that 
God's  love  was  a  holy,  precious  thing,  and  tinged  every- 
thing around  her  with  a  rosy  hue.  Then  they  went  in 
to  supper,  and  a  merry,  happy  party  they  were  as  they 
sat  round  the  table,  hungry  with  their  labour  of  love, 
and  full  of  the  joyous  merriment  that  belongs  to  youth. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SAM  FINDS  A  FRIEND. 

LD  Mrs-  Wilson's  idea  that  the  fire  had  been 
caused  by  the  careless  mischief  of  boys 
seemed  likely  to  prove  true.  Suspicion  fell 
on  a  band  of  gipsies  who  had  had  an  encampment  in 
several  places  in  the  neighbourhood.  They  were  a 
strangely  forlorn-looking  set,  and  belonging  to  them 
were  two  boys  who  were  looked  upon  as  dangerous 
characters.  They  had  been  seen  lurking  about  the 
barn  on  the  evening  preceding  the  fire,  but  no  one 
had  seen  them  on  the  day  when  it  occurred,  so  that 
it  seemed  impossible  to  bring  it  home  to  them. 
Bernard  and  Leslie  had  been  for  a  long  walk,  and 
were  returning  home,  a  few  days  after  the  fire, 
when  they  unexpectedly  came  upon  the  encampment. 
They  were  first  attracted  by  cries  of  distress,  and 
then  they  saw  a  boy  running  as  if  for  his  life.  A 
man  with  a  heavy  stick  in  his  hand  appeared  behind 
him,  but  soon  seemed  to  give  up  the  pursuit,  and 

147 


148  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

contented  himself  with  angry  threats.  After  a  while 
the  boy  looked  back  to  see  if  he  were  followed,  and 
being  apparently  assured  that  he  was  not,  he  threw 
himself  down  on  the  turf  and  sobbed  as  if  his  heart 
would  break.  He  had  evidently  not  seen  Bernard 
and  Leslie,  and  their  path  did  not  take  them  quite 
close  to  the  spot  where  he  was  lying. 

"  Halloa !  that  poor  fellow  seems  in  dire  distress," 
said  Bernard.  "  You  go  on,  Leslie ;  I'll  just  have  a 
look  at  him  and  find  out  what  is  up.  That  man 
looked  as  if  he  could  have  killed  him." 

"  All  right,"  said  Leslie ;  "  I'm  tired,  so  I  shall 
make  my  way  home." 

Bernard  lightly  vaulted  over  the  five-barred  gate 
that  led  into  the  field  where  the  boy  was,  and  in 
another  minute  was  close  beside  him.  He  had 
evidently  not  heard  any  one  coming,  and  started  up 
like  a  frightened  hare  as  he  came  close  beside  him. 

"  Don't  run  away,"  Bernard  said  ;  "  you  need  not 
be  frightened  of  me ;  I  am  only  a  boy  like  yourself." 

Two  dark-brown  eyes  scanned  Bernard  keenly, 
and  looked  full  of  astonishment. 

"  What's  up  ?  You  seem  in  trouble.  Can't  I  help 
you  a  bit  ?  " 

"  You  ?  "  said  the  boy,  looking  still  more  aston- 
ished. "  Why,  you're  not  like  me ;  you're  one  of  the 
gentle-folks." 

"  What  does  that  matter  ?      I  am  a  boy,  and  I'm 


Sam  Finds  a  Friend.  149 

awfully  sorry  for  you.      Was  that  your  father  that 
was  following  you  with  that  big  stick  ?  " 

"No;  he  ain't  really  my  father.  I've  got  no  real 
father  and  mother,  and  I  wish  I  was  dead." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Bernard  ;  "  you  mustn't  say  that ;  it 
is  wicked." 

"  What  do  I  care  ?  "  said  the  boy  defiantly. 

"  You  ought  to  care,"  said  Bernard,  feeling  half- 
puzzled  to  know  what  to  say  next.  "  Has  no  one  told 
you  about  God,  and  how  we  must  one  day  answer  to 
Him  for  all  the  wrong  things  we  have  done  ?  " 

"  How  should  anybody  tell  me  about  God  ? "  the 
boy  said  fiercely.  "  I  tell  you  I  am  wicked,  and  if 
you  knew  all  you  wouldn't  as  much  as  speak  to  me." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  asked  Bernard. 

"  Lanky." 

Bernard  could  hardly  help  laughing,  the  name 
seemed  so  very  appropiate,  for  the  boy's  legs  were 
lanky,  his  arms  were  lanky,  his  very  hair  was  lanky. 

"  Yes  ;  but  that  can't  be  your  real  name  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I'm  Samuel  by  rights,  I  suppose,  but  nobody 
ever  calls  me  anything  but  Lanky,  and  I'm  used 
to  it." 

"  I  would  rather  call  you  Sam." 

"  All  right,  I  don't  care." 

"  Sam,  don't  you  ever  wish  that  you  were  some- 
thing different  to  what  you  are  ?  " 

The  boy  looked  up  for  the  first  time  with  interest. 


150  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

11  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  a  different  life  ?  You 
look  so  miserable." 

"  So  I  am  miserable.     I  tell  you  I  wish  I  was  dead." 

"  Now  look  here,  Sam,  you  must  not  say  that  again. 
I  can  quite  see  you  are  very  miserable,  but  dying  as 
you  are  would  not  make  you  any  less  miserable." 

"  I  don't  see  that,"  said  the  boy  sullenly. 

"  No ;  how  can  you  see  it,  Sam,  when  no  one  has 
told  you  about  God  ?  Poor  fellow  !  I'm  dreadfully 
sorry  for  you." 

Sam  looked  quite  astonished  with  the  unmistakable 
'sympathy  in  Bernard's  face.  Had  he  been  anything 
but  a  boy  of  about  his  own  age  he  would  probably 
have  thought  nothing  about  it. 

"  Will  you  let  me  help  you,  Sam  ?  " 

"  How  ?  " 

"  First  you  must  try  and  give  up  your  bad  ways, 
and  ask  God  to  help  you  to  be  good.  1  expect  you 
do  many  things  that  you  know  are  wrong,  don't  you?" 

"  Do  you  mean  swearing  and  stealing  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  those  are  two  things,  and  I  dare  say  there 
are  plenty  more." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  set  that  ere  stack  on  fire,"  said 
poor  Sam  in  a  sudden  burst  of  confidence,  forgetting 
the  danger  there  was  in  letting  out  such  a  secret. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Bernard.  "  It  would 
have  been  a  dreadful  thing  to  have  wilfully  done  so 


Sam  Finds  a  Friend.  1 5 1 

much  harm  to  anybody.      Do  you  know  that  it  is  a 
very  serious  loss  to  the  farmer  ?  " 

"  You  won't  tell  on  me,  will  yer  ? "  said  Sam  in 
a  hoarse,  frightened  whisper. 

"  No  ;  you  may  trust  me.     Are  you  very  hungry  ?  " 
Bernard  asked,  the  half-starved  look  of  the  boy  strik- 
ing him  forcibly. 
"Ain't  I  just  !" 

"  Will  you  come  home  with  me  and  have  a  meal  ?  " 
"  Thank'ee.      Which  way  are  you  going  ?  " 
Even   the   thought   of  food  would  not  have  been 
sufficient  to  tempt  the  lad  near  the  encampment. 
"  I  am  going  to  the  farm  on  the  cliff." 
"  Right  you  are,  then,"  said  Sam,  jumping  up  with 
alacrity. 

The  two  boys  walked  along  side  by  side,  looking  a 
strange  contrast ;  Sam  with  his  long,  lanky  figure, 
which  had  so  appropriately  supplied  his  nickname, 
and  Bernard  with  his  straight,  athletic  frame.  It  was 
little  wonder  that  even  Sam  had  detected  the  wide 
difference  between  them.  Bernard  was  a  little  puzzled 
what  to  do  with  him,  though  he  had  given  him  such  a 
hearty  invitation.  What  would  his  mother  say  to  any 
one  so  dirty  being  brought  to  the  house  ?  And  still 
worse,  what  would  Rogers  say  to  such  an  intruder  ? 
Happily  he  saw  his  mother  in  the  garden ;  so,  telling 
Sam  to  wait  a  minute,  he  went  towards  her  to  tell 
her  of  his  companion.  Mrs.  Cameron  had  already 


152  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

caught  sight  of  him,  and  in  an  instant  had  taken  in 
the  boy's  deplorable  appearance. 

"  Who  is  that  boy,  Bernard  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Why,  mother,  it  is  one  of  those  gipsy  fellows. 
He  is  so  utterly  miserable  and  hungry  that  I  could 
not  help  telling  him  to  come  with  me  for  a  meal. 
You  don't  mind,  mother,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  would  willingly  give  him  a  meal,  but  I  hardly 
know  what  your  father  would  say  to  his  being  brought 
to  the  house ;  these  wandering  people  are  often  sad 
thieves." 

"  I  believe  he  is  very  wicked,  but  he  is  so  very, 
very  miserable.  Don't  you  think  we  might  be  able 
to  help  him  to  a  different  life  ?  He  is  only  my  age, 
mother." 

"  Well,  let  us  see  about  his  having  something  to 
eat  first ;  I  dare  say  he  is  very  hungry,  as  you  think." 

"  Yes  ;  I  believe  he  is  starving.  But  even  the  hope 
of  food  would  not  have  tempted  him  to  go  round  by 
the  encampment." 

"  Are  his  parents  living  ?  " 

"  No ;  he  has  no  real  father  and  mother,"  he  says. 

"  Poor  lad !  he  has  had  nothing  to  help  him  to  do 
right,  I  expect." 

"  No  ;  anything  but  that ;  and  it  was  such  a  dread- 
ful-looking man  that  was  following  him  with  a  stick. 
It  was  his  distress  that  first  attracted  my  notice." 

Mrs.  Cameron  had  soon  ordered  a  good  meal  to  be 


Sam  Finds  a  Friend.  153 

brought  to  the  back-door,  and  there  Sam  sat  and  ate 
it  voraciously. 

"What  can  we  do  with  him,  mother?"  asked 
Bernard.  "  I  do  not  think  he  dare  go  back  to  the 
encampment." 

"  It  is  difficult  to  know  what  to  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Cameron.  "But  here  comes  your  father;  perhaps 
he  will  be  able  to  suggest  something." 

Dr.  Cameron  had  soon  heard  all  Sam's  story, 
with  the  exception  of  his  confession  of  having  set 
fire  to  the  stack,  though  unintentionally.  Bernard 
felt  bound  in  honour  not  to  let  out  his  secret. 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  help  this  lad,  Bernard  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  father,  I  do  indeed.  He  is.  just  about  my 
own  age,  and  somehow  I  cannot  help  feeling  very 
much  for  him.  There  is  no  telling  what  I  might 
have  been  without  such  a  father  and  mother,"  he 
added  in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  God's  grace,  my  boy ;  we  none  of  us  can 
tell  what  we  might  have  been  without  that." 

"  No,  /ather ;  but  Sam  has  had  no  one  to  tell  him 
about  God." 

"  I  think  he  has  finished  his  supper  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Cameron.  "You  had  better  go  and  find  out  a 
little  more  about  him,  and  whether  he  is  really  turned 
out  of  the  encampment,  as  Bernard  seems  to  think." 
Her  words  were  addressed  to  the  Doctor. 


154  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  No,  Bernard,  you  are  the  one  to  go.  The  lad 
has  evidently  given  you  his  confidence.  Maybe  he 
would  be  frightened  of  me." 

So  Bernard  went,  with  a  good  deal  of  diffidence  on 
his  part,  and  feeling  that  he  did  not  know  what  to 
say. 

"  Had  your  supper,  Sam  ?  "  he  asked  as  a  beginning. 

"  Yes,  sir,  thank'ee,"  the  boy  said  with  a  knowing 
look,  as  much  as  to  say  "  And  wasn't  it  good  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  doing  now,  Sam  ?  " 

"  Sleep  under  a  hedge.  It  won't  be  the  first  time," 
he  said  with  a  grin. 

"  Are  you  never  going  back  to  the  encampment 
again  ?  " 

"  No,  never.  He  said  as  he  didn't  want  never  to 
see  me  again,  and  I  s'pose  I'll  be  able  to  live  some- 
how." 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  sleep  in  that  barn 
yonder  if  my  father  would  allow  you  ?  It  looks  like 
rain,  and  you  would  get  drenched  under  a  hedge." 

"  I  shouldn't  mind,"  said  the  boy.  "  But  you 
wouldn't  tell  on  me,  would  yer  ?  "  he  added  in  a  low 
whisper. 

"Now,  look  here,  Sam,"  said  Bernard;  "just  look 
straight  at  me  and  see  if  you  can  trust  me.  I 
wouldn't  tell  a  lie  for  anything." 

"  Yes,  I'll  trust  yer,"  said  Sam,  seeming  to  gain 
confidence  as  he  looked  up  into  Bernard's  honest  face. 


Sam  Finds  a  Friend.  155 

"  Do  you  know,  Sam,  I  feel  downright  sorry  for 
you,  and  I  would  really  like  to  help  you  to  a  better 
and  a  happier  life,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"  Nobody  ever  cared  anything  about  me  before," 
said  poor  Sam. 

"  But  God  cares." 

"  Not  for  me,"  said  the  poor  outcast.  "  I  tell  you 
nobody  cares  for  me." 

"I  care  for, you  a  great  deal,"  said  Bernard,  with 
real  feeling. 

"  It's  very  strange,"  said  Sam.  "  I  don't  see  why 
you  should  care  a  button  about  me." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  ?  "  said  Bernard,  speaking  with 
a  great  effort.  "  Many  years  ago,  God's  only  Son, 
Jesus  Christ,  left  His  Home  in  Heaven  to  come  and 
live  on  this  earth  just  as  you  and  I  do ;  and  then  He 
died  upon  the  cross  for  us — that's  you  and  me,  Sam 
— that  we  might  have  our  sins  forgiven  and  go  to 
Heaven  when  we  die.  I  love  Him  for  all  He  has 
done  for  us,  and  I  want  you  to  know  how  He  loves 
you.  That  is  why  I  care  about  you." 

"  I  have  heard  something  of  that  'ere  story  before," 
said  Sam.  "  We  were  at  a  fair  some  months  ago, 
and  there  was  a  man  preaching.  He  told  us  about 
that." 

"  Have  you  never  thought  about  it  since  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sometimes ;  but  it  didn't  seem  to  have 
naught  to  do  with  such  as  me." 


156  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"Yes,  indeed  it  has.  believe  me,  Sam.  God  loves 
you,  if  nobody  else  does.  But  there  is  the  bell  ring- 
ing for  me  to  go  in  to  supper.  I  will  run  and  ask 
my  father  if  he  will  let  you  sleep  in  the  barn  to-night." 

So  off  Bernard  ran  to  make  his  request,  and  per- 
suaded Dr.  Cameron  to  come  and  see  Sam  for  himself. 
The  Doctor  spoke  kindly  to  the  boy,  but  he  was 
evidently  so  frightened  of  him  that  he  wisely  slipped 
away  and  left  the  two  boys  together.  Bernard  was 
not  satisfied  till  he  had  found  some  clean  straw,  and 
assured  himself  that  Sam  really  intended  to  stay  in 
the  barn  for  the  night.  Then,  with  a  happy  heart, 
the  ministering  boy  returned  to  the  house  and  joined 
the  rest  of  the  party  at  supper. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
BERNARD'S    LETTER. 

»ATHER,  what  can    I   do   with  him?"   asked 
Bernard  as  he  seated  himself, 

"  I  should  like  you  to  try  and  think  for 
yourself,  Bernard,"  was  Dr.  Cameron's  answer.  "  You 
know,  my  boy,  to  whom  to  go  to  for  wisdom.  Con- 
sult your  best  Counsellor  to-night,  and  then  we  will 
talk  it  over  to-morrow." 

Bernard  did  not  say  anything.  He  remembered 
his  empty  purse,  and  the  thought  crossed  his  mind 
that  nothing  could  be  done  without  money.  But  he 
knew  his  father  well,  and  felt  that  it  was  no  use  to 
discuss  the  matter  further  that  night  When  he  was 
alone  in  his  own  room,  Sam's  hungry,  frightened  face 
seemed  before  him,  and  the  hopeless  tone  of  his  voice 
rang  in  his  ears  as  he  said,  "  I  tell  you  nobody  cares 
for  me."  Then  he  thought  of  his  father's  words — 
"  Consult  your  best  Counsellor  to-night."  He  felt 
greatly  in  need  of  counsel.  He  had  taken  up  Sam's 

157 


158  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

cause ;  he  had  told  him  that  he  would  like  to  help  him 
to  a  better  life,  and  yet  he  did  not  know  how  to  do  it. 

So  Bernard  wisely  told  his  Father  in  Heaven  all 
his  difficulty,  and  how  he  wanted  to  help  this  poor 
outcast  lad.  His  prayer  was  short  and  definite, 
couched  in  his  boyish,  simple  words,  but  no  heartfelt 
prayer  offered  in  the  name  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ  ever  yet  failed  to  reach  our  Father's 
throne.  No  plan  came  to  Bernard's  mind  that  night, 
but  there  was  a  rest  in  having  laid  it  before  His 
God,  and  in  asking  Him  to  direct  and  guide  him. 
So  Bernard  went  to  sleep,  and  slept  soundly  till  the 
morning. 

He  woke  early,  and  his  firs,t  thoughts  were  of  Sam. 
He  wondered  if  the  boy  would  have  run  away  or 
whether  he  would  really  have  trusted  him.  As  he 
hastily  dressed  he  remembered  having  heard  of  a 
"Home"  in  London  where  homeless  boys  were  received. 
Could  he  persuade  Sam  to  go  to  such  a  place  ?  He 
would  be  well  cared  for,  and  be  enabled  to  make  a 
good  start  in  life.  He  ran  downstairs  and  made  his 
way  eagerly  to  the  barn.  For  one  moment  he  thought 
Sam  was  gone  ;  the  next  he  saw  that  he  was  mistaken. 
There  was  Sam,  looking  refreshed  with  the  good  meal 
of  the  night  before  and  the  undisturbed  rest ;  looking 
a  little  cleaner,  too,  for  he  had  evidently  been  down 
to  the  pond  and  had  a  wash. 

"  Here  you  are,   Sam.      That's  right,"  said  Bernard 


Bernard 's  Letter.  159 

gladly.      "  I  expect  you  are  just  about  ready  for  some 
breakfast." 

j  "  I  bain't  hungry  yet,  sir ;  leastways  not  what  yer 
might  call  hungry.  It  ain't  often  as  I've  had  such 
a  tuck-in  as  last  night." 

Bernard  could  hardly  help  laughing,  the  supper  had 
evidently  left  such  a  pleasant  remembrance. 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  some  breakfast  presently, 
and  then  you  will  promise  to  wait  till  I  have  seen 
you.  I  can  trust  you,  Sam  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I'll  wait." 

"Then  I  must  be  off;  I  see  the  others  are  wait- 
ing for  me  to  go  down  to  bathe." 

Bernard  ran  in  for  his  towel,  and  soon  overtook  the 
others  at  the  bottom  of  the  cliff.  It  was  a  glorious 
morning.  The  rain  that  had  threatened  the  night 
before  had  ended  with  a  sharp  shower,  which  had 
refreshed  the  earth  and  cooled  the  air.  They  were 
all  enthusiastic  bathers,  and  Arthur  had  quickly  caught 
their  ardour,  and  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  the  rest.  The 
Doctor  and  Bernard  had  not  finished  dressing  quite  so 
quickly  as  the  younger  boys,  and  by  the  time  they  were 
ready  they  had  vanished  from  the  shore.  The  Doctor 
slipped  his  arm  into  his  son's,  and  they  walked  slowly 
up  the  cliff  together. 

"Well,  my  boy,  did  you  consult  your  best  Coun- 
sellor last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father." 


160  Old  Christie1  s  Cabin. 

"  Has  any  plan  come  into  your  mind  ?  " 

"Well,  father,  I  remembered  this  morning  that  I  had 
heard  of  a  '  Home '  in  London  for  homeless  boys,  and  it 
struck  me  that  if  we  could  persuade  Sam  to  go  to  such 
a  place,  he  might  grow  up  into  a  good,  honest  fellow." 

"  Very  good,  Bernard  ;  there  is  such  a  '  Home,'  and 
if  Sam  can  be  persuaded  to  go,  as  you  say,  I  think  it 
would  be  a  splendid  thing  for  him." 

"  But  will  it  cost  much,  father  ?  The  worst  of  it 
is,  I've  spent  all  my  money." 

"  There  are  many  kind  and  helpful  things  that  can 
be  done  in  this  world,  Bernard,  without  much  money. 
Money  is  undoubtedly  a  great  power  for  good  if  used 
rightly,  but  God  has  given  us  other  things  too  to  use 
for  Him — our  time,  our  influence,  our  position.  These 
are  all  things  that  we  shall  have  to  answer  for." 

Bernard  walked  on  silently  for  a  minute  or  two ; 
then  he  said,  "You  will  write  to  the  Home  about 
Sam,  will  you  not,  father  ?  " 

"  No,  Bernard,  this  is  your  affair ;  I  should  like 
you  to  write  yourself;  you  are  quite  old  enough." 

"  I  thought  you  would  have  done  it  for  me,  father." 

"  No ;  you  have  taken  up  Sam  with  your  own  free 
will ;  the  boy  has  already  put  trust  in  you  ;  and  I  should 
like  you  to  carry  it  through  as  far  as  possible  yourself. 
You  have  asked  God  for  counsel,  my  boy ;  now  trust 
Him  to  help  you  still  further." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  house,  and  found 


Bernard's  Letter.  161 

breakfast  waiting  for  them.  When  the  party  after- 
wards dispersed,  Bernard  made  his  way  again  to  the 
barn,  and  found  Sam  looking  out  for  him. 

"Well,  Sam,  was  the  breakfast  as  good  as  the 
supper  ?  "  he  asked  laughingly. 

"  Yes,  sir,  it  was  jolly  good,"  said  Sam  contentedly. 

"  Now,  I  want  to  talk  to  you,  and  see  what  can  be 
done  for  you  in  the  future.  You  can't  always  live  in 
this  barn,  you  know.  I  have  heard  of  a  '  Home '  in 
London  for  boys,  where  they  are  taught  many  useful 
things  that  will  help  them  to  earn  an  honest  livelihood. 
If  I  could  get  you  in  there,  would  you  be  willing  to  go?" 

Sam  nodded. 

"It  would  be  quite  different  to  the  roving  life  you 
have  been  accustomed  to,  but  you  would  be  taught 
there  how  to  grow  up  good  and  honest.  Some  of  the 
boys  from  that  '  Home '  are  now  doing  well  for  them- 
selves, and  have  good  homes  of  their  own." 

Sam  seemed  listening  intently. 

"You  are  quite  sure  that  Owen  will  not  claim  you, 
and  want  you  to  return  to  the  encampment  ?  " 

"  No,  not  he,"  said  Sam. 

"Well,  then,  you  can  still  sleep  in  this  barn  till 
something  has  been  arranged,  and  my  mother  will  see 
that  you  have  food." 

Sam's  eyes  glistened  appreciatively.  Of  all  things, 
food  was  most  welcome  to  the  half-starved  boy. 

So  Bernard  went  back  to  the  house  determined 
to  write  a  letter  to  the  superintendent  of  the  "  Home  " 


i 62  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

at  once.  Like  many  other  schoolboys,  there  was 
nothing  he  disliked  doing  more  than  letter- writing ; 
but  it  had  to  be  done  if  Sam  was  to  become  an  inmate 
of  the  "  Home,"  and  the  sooner  it  was  done  the  better. 
Bernard  took  up  more  than  one  sheet  of  paper  before 
he  accomplished  a  letter  that  seemed  to  say  all  that  was 
necessary.  He  finished  it  off  with  a  large  "  BERNARD 
CAMERON,"  and  a  considerable  flourish  at  the  end, 
which  denoted  his  great  satisfaction  to  feel  it  was 
done.  Then  he  was  free  to  join  the  others. 

"  Have  you  written  your  letter,  Bernard  ?  "  asked 
Dr.  Cameron. 

"Yes,  father.  I  left  it  open  to  see  if  you  think  it 
will  do ;  but  please  do  not  criticise  it  too  closely." 

"  It  will  do  very  well,  my  boy,"  said  the  Doctor, 
handing  it  back,  "  and  may  God  grant  you  success." 

It  had  been  arranged  that  the  Camerons  should 
join  a  party  of  friends  from  Stourcliffe  that  afternoon 
for  a  picnic  to  some  ruins  of  an  old  castle  that  stood 
close  to  the  sea,  about  three  miles  away ;  so,  after  an 
early  dinner,  there  was  a  general  packing  up  of  provi- 
sions. A  light  cart  from  the  farm  was  to  convey 
them  to  the  place  of  rendezvous.  Mrs.  Cameron, 
with  Ethel,  Maude,  and  little  Gladys,  were  to  drive 
in  the  donkey-carriage,  while  the  boys  went  with  the 
Doctor  in  their  much-loved  boat.  It  was  the  Doctor's 
birthday,  and  as  it  occurred  at  a  season  when  they 
were  always  away  from  town,  it  was  looked  upon  as 
a  red-letter  day  by  all  the  family.  They  all  felt  they 


Bernard's  Letter.  163 

must  make  the  most  of  his  company,  for  it  was  the 
last  day  before  he  was  to  leave  them  for  a  short  visit 
to  Switzerland,  and  Stourcliffe  was  never  quite  so 
bright  a  place  without  the  father's  presence. 

The  ruins  stood  on  the  top  of  a  cliff,  in  a  com- 
manding situation,  that  said  much  for  the  discretion 
of  the  warriors  of  the  olden  time.  The  headland 
stretched  a  considerable  distance  out  to  sea,  so  that  on 
two  sides  the  old  castle  seemed  surrounded  by  water. 
The  ascent  was  so  steep,  even  on  the  easiest  part, 
that  the  elders  of  the  party  had  to  stop  several  times 
before  reaching  the  top.  But  the  part  the  young 
people  liked  best  was  the  extreme  point,  which  dropped 
down  into  the  sea  in  abrupt  rocks.  They  had  now 
timed  their  visit  during  the  spring-tides,  and  when  high 
water  would  be  in  the  after-part  of  the  day.  With  a 
wind  blowing  off  the  sea  the  waves  were  wont  to  be 
magnificent  as  they  dashed  against  the  rocky  base  of 
the  old  castle.  They  now  seated  themselves  in  a  spot 
where  they  could  watch  the  waves  breaking  and  in- 
deed, summer  season  as  it  was,  they  were  very  grand. 

"  This  must  be  a  strange  place  on  a  winter  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Cameron,  drawing  her  shawl  round  her  a  little 
closer,  for  the  wind  blew  keenly,  in  spite  of  the  hot  sun. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  I  expect  there 
are  many  days  in  winter  when  you  would  not  be  able 
to  keep  your  footing  on  this  headland." 

"Is  the  castle  very  old,  Dr.  Cameron?"  asked  Arthur. 


164  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  Yes,  very ;  they  say  some  of  it  dates  back  as 
far  as  the  eleventh  century.  As  you  have  never  been 
here  before,  you  will  not  have  heard  the  old  legend 
connected  with  it." 

"  No ;  do  tell  me,"  said  Arthur,  who  delighted  in 
stories  of  the  olden  times. 

"  In  one  of  the  wars  the  castle  stood  a  long  siege, 
and  was  strongly  fortified  on  all  sides  except  this  one 
towards  the  sea.  The  rock  was  so  sharp  and  abrupt 
that  they  considered  this  side  invulnerable.  Accord- 
ingly they  put  no  sentinels,  no  doubt  reserving  all 
their  forces  for  the  weaker  parts  of  the  castle.  In 
some  way  the  enemy  discovered  this,  and  one  night  a 
small  party,  under  shelter  of  the  darkness,  ventured 
to  the  bottom  of  the  cliff  in  a  little  boat.  These  men 
were  bold  climbers.  They  determined  to  scale  the 
rock,  cost  what  it  would,  and  little  by  little,  with 
stealthy  but  sure  steps,  they  climbed  up  in  the  early 
morning.  Those  defending  the  castle  were  com- 
pletely taken  by  surprise.  Seeing  two  or  three  men, 
they  supposed  many  more  were  behind.  A  panic 
ensued,  and  thus  the  castle  fell." 

"  It  was  very  hard  for  them,"  said  Arthur,  "  after 
they  had  held  out  so  long." 

"Yes,  very  hard.  But  you  see  how  necessary  it 
is  for  a  soldier  to  be  watchful  all  round.  I  have 
often  thought,  when  I  have  heard  that  story,  that 
those  besieged  ones  are  very  much  like  us  who 


Bernard's  Letter.  165 

profess  to  be  Christ's  soldiers.  We  may  be  very 
watchful,  but  maybe  we  do  not  watch  all  round, 
and  one  day,  when  we  least  expect,  our  great  enemy 
surprises  us.  Our  great  Captain  was  thinking  of 
this,  I  think,  when  He  said,  '  Watch  and  pray,  lest 
ye  enter  into  temptation.'  " 

"  The  waves  are  getting  grander  every  minute,  I 
believe,"  said  Maude  presently.  "  See,  is  not  this  a 
grand  one  rolling  in  ?  " 

It  was  indeed  magnificent,  bursting  up  in  showers 
of  spray  that  looked  almost  like  a  rainbow  in  the 
sunshine. 

"It  is  no  doubt  very  delightful  sitting  here,"  said 
Leslie,  "  but  I'm  getting  dreadfully  hungry.  Can't 
you  go  and  see  if  tea  is  ready,  Maude  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  lazy,  Leslie.  I  think  you  might  go 
yourself,  if  you  are  so  famished,"  said  Maude. 

"  It's  more  your  work  to  see  after  the  tea,  seeing 
that  you  are  a  girl,"  said  Leslie. 

"  Come,  come,  Leslie,"  said  his  father,  "  I  think 
you  might  be  willing  to  save  your  sister  such  a  run 
as  she  must  have  to  where  the  tea  was  to  be  laid. 
Be  courteous,  my  boy,  to  your  sisters,  and  when  you 
grow  into  manhood  you  will  know  how  to  treat  other 
women  with  respect." 

Leslie  got  up,  though  very  ungraciously.  When 
he  had  gone  a  few  steps  he  turned  round  to  ask 
where  he  should  find  the  preparations  for  tea. 


1 66  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

"  I  told  the  servants  to  choose  the  most  sheltered 
place  among  the  ruins  that  they  could  find,"  said  Mrs. 
Cameron.  "  I  expect  it  will  be  in  the  old  banqueting- 
hall." 

It  was  not  long  before  Leslie  could  be  seen  in  the 
distance  vigorously  ringing  the  dinner-bell,  which  had 
been  brought  on  purpose  to  gather  the  party  together, 
and  very  soon  they  were  all  doing  good  justice  to  the 
ample  supply  of  tea,  cake,  and  fruit  that  was  laid 
ready  for  them. 

It  was  a  merry  party,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  look 
round  on  so  many  happy  young  faces.  As  they 
glanced  up  at  the  walls  of  the  old  banqueting-hall, 
crumbling  with  age,  they  wondered  if  any  meal  in  the 
olden  time  had  been  more  heartily  enjoyed  than  this 
one.  But  the  air  began  to  get  chilly  after  a  while,  and 
caused  a  general  move,  some  of  the  party  wending  off 
for  a  ramble  in  one  direction,  and  some  in  another. 

"  What  time  are  we  to  meet,  father  ?  "  said  Ber- 
nard as  they  were  parting. 

"  Half-past  seven  ;  not  later,  for  we  shall  be  some 
time  getting  home,  and  the  evenings  are  drawing  in. 
Where  is  Leslie  ?  Let  him  know  the  time,"  said  Dr. 
Cameron,  looking  round  for  his  second  son. 

"  I  think  he  is  gone  on  with  Percy  Simpson,  but 
we  shall  be  sure  to  see  him,"  said  Bernard,  and  then 
he  set  off  with  Hubert  and  Arthur,  who  were  never 
happier  than  when  they  could  follow  him. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
THE   OLD    CASTLE. 

,HEN  half-past  seven  came,  the  various  parties 
were  all  seen  making  their  way  to  the  spot 
where  the  cart  and  donkey-carriage  stood 
waiting.  The  cart  was  already  packed  with  the 
remnants  of  the  feast,  and  the  two  servants  who  had 
come  to  help  were  waiting  to  know  if  anything  more 
were  wanted  before  starting  homewards. 

"Are  we  all  here  ?  "  asked  the  Doctor. 

"  All  but  Leslie  and  Percy.  The  Simpsons  are 
gone  on,  for  Mr.  Simpson  was  getting  anxious  lest 
they  should  not  be  home  before  dark,  as  they  have 
farther  to  go.  I  said  Percy  could  stay  the  night  with 
us,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron. 

"  They  ought  to  be  here,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Oh  ! 
here  is  Bernard.  Have  you  seen  Leslie  and  Percy  ?  " 

"  No.  I  cannot  think  where  they  can  have  gone. 
We  looked  for  them  everywhere,  and  shouted  for 

them  too.      Didn't  we,  Hubert  ?  " 

167 


1 68  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  Well,  what  is  to  be  done  ? "  said  the  Doctor, 
taking  out  his  watch.  "It  will  be  getting  late  for 
the  boat.  The  evening  has  clouded  over,  and  indeed 
it  looks  much  like  a  thunderstorm." 

"  I  think,  Allan,  you  had  better  go  on  with  the 
boys,  and  take  Maude  with  you  in  Leslie's  place.  No 
doubt  he  and  Percy  will  not  be  long.  Take  this 
warm  shawl,  Maudie ;  you  had  better  start  at  once." 

Dr.  Cameron  looked  a  little  anxious  ;  he  scarcely 
liked  leaving  his  wife  with  two  of  the  party  missing. 
Still,  the  evening  looked  stormy,  and  there  would  be 
no  moon  to  help  them  on  the  way. 

"  Leslie  should  have  made  a  point  of  being  back ; 
his  own  sense  might  have  told  him  that  we  ought 
to  be  starting  homewards  by  this  time,"  said  Dr. 
Cameron. 

"  I  dare  say  he  and  Percy  will  be  here  soon,"  said 
Mrs.  Cameron  gently.  "  I  am  sure  you  had  better 
not  wait  for  them." 

So  the  Doctor,  with  the  boys  and  Maude,  set  off 
very  reluctantly,  looking  back  as  far  as  they  could 
see,  hoping  to  catch  sight  of  the  missing  ones.  Mrs. 
Cameron  and  Ethel  went  back  to  the  little  carriage 
to  wait.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  but  no  boys 
appeared.  Soon  after  the  Doctor  had  left,  flashes  of 
lightning  were  seen  in  the  west.  Gradually  the  storm 
crept  up,  and  every  minute  the  lightning  became  more 
vivid,  though  as  yet  no  rain  had  fallen. 


The  Old  Castle.  1 69 


"  What  can  we  do,  mother  ?  "  said  Ethel.  "  I  fear 
we  are  going  to  have  a  very  heavy  storm.  I  wish 
the  boys  would  come." 

"  Yes ;  it  is  very  thoughtless  of  Leslie,"  said 
Mrs.  Cameron  gravely. 

"  I  expect  Percy  has  tempted  him  to  go  too  far, 
and  they  have  forgotten  how  long  it  would  take  to 
get  back  again,"  said  Ethel,  who  always  tried  to 
shelter  Leslie  from  blame  if  she  could. 

"  Yes ;  but  it  is  time  Leslie  began  to  think  for 
himself.  I  wish  he  knew  how  to  take  a  firmer  stand 
for  the  right.  I  am  often  afraid  it  will  lead  our  poor 
Leslie  into  trouble." 

"  He  is  so  light-hearted,  mother ;  he  will  think  of 
these  things  when  he  gets  a  little  older." 

"  Poor,  dear  Leslie  !  it  is  his  light-hearted,  free-and- 
easy  ways  that  make  him  such  a  general  favourite. 
He  will  never  know  how  to  make  a  firm  stand  against 
wrong  until  he  has  learned  to  look  to  God  for  the 
strength  he  needs." 

The  thunder  was  getting  nearer  now,  and  large 
spots  of  rain  began  to  fall.  Mrs.  Cameron  looked 
round  to  see  if  any  shelter  was  to  be  seen  anywhere, 
but  nothing  but  the  old  ruined  castle  was  within 
reach,  and  that  offered  but  a  dangerous  refuge. 
At  the  first  appearance  of  the  storm  she  had  sent 
on  the  servants  in  the  light  cart  with  little  Gladys, 
so  that  she  and  Ethel  were  quite  alone.  They  felt 


1 70  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

they  could  not  leave  the  spot,  as  at  any  moment  the 
two  boys  might  come,  and  Mrs.  Cameron  would  not 
start  home  without  them. 

In  the  meantime  the  boys  were  much  farther  away 
than  Mrs.  Cameron  thought.  Percy  had  told  Leslie 
of  a  natural  cave  some  distance  along  the  shore,  and 
pointing  to  it,  assured  him  that  it  could  not  be  very 
far  away.  But  they  had  not  calculated  upon  the  path 
they  must  take  to  reach  it.  Once  on  the  shore, 
instead  of  smooth  sand  were  large  boulders  which 
must  be  climbed  over,  and  this  took  treble  the  time 
they  had  expected.  Once  Leslie  made  a  feeble  at- 
tempt to  return,  but  he  was  as  anxious  as  Percy  to 
see  the  cave,  and  he  soon  gave  way  to  his  own  incli- 
nations and  Percy's  assertions  that  they  must  be  very 
near  by  this  time. 

They  had  so  completely  forgotten  how  the  time 
had  slipped  away,  that  just  as  they  at  last  reached 
the  cave  they  heard  the  first  peal  of  thunder  in  the 
distance. 

"  I  say,  Percy,  don't  you  think  it's  getting  uncom- 
monly dark  ?  "  said  Leslie.  "  And  it's  thundering. 
Didn't  you  hear  it  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  wish  we  hadn't  all  those  old  rocks  to 
climb  over  to  get  back  again.  I  believe  my  legs 
will  be  covered  with  bruises  to-morrow." 

"  I  think  we  had  better  make  a  start,"  said  Leslie, 
forgetting  all  his  desire  to  see  the  cave.  "  Come  on, 


The  Old  Castle.  1 7 1 


Percy,  I'm  afraid  it's  getting  dreadfully  late.  I  hope 
we  shan't  keep  the  others  waiting." 

So  off  they  started,  but  the  climbing  was  harder 
work  now  they  had  reached  the  point  of  interest, 
and,  besides,  the  distance  seemed  more  than  double. 
Before  they  were  half-way  to  a  smoother  path  the 
lightning  was  lighting  up  the  country  round  and  rain 
was  falling  heavily.  This  made  the  rocks  slippery, 
and  in  their  anxiety  to  get  on  fast  they  had  many 
falls.  The  rain  was  soon  coming  down  in  torrents, 
and  what  with  the  glare  of  the  continual  lightning 
and  the  rain  in  their  faces,  they  had  indeed  hard 
work  before  them.  Percy  was  the  first  to  give  in. 

"  I  tell  you  I  can't  go  another  step,"  he  said 
pettishly. 

"  Nonsense,  Percy,"  said  Leslie  angrily ;  "  it's  no 
use  to  give  in  like  this ;  we  must  get  on.  Fancy 
what  a  way  they  will  all  be  in  about  us:" 

"  I  don't  care ;  I  wish  I  had  never  come.  I'll 
never  go  and  see  another  cave  as  long  as  I  live." 

Both  the  boys  certainly  looked  very  pitiable 
objects  as  they  crouched  down,  trying  to  shelter 
themselves  from  the  violence  of  the  storm.  Leslie 
was  really  unhappy  at  the  thought  of  the  anxiety  he 
must  be  giving  through  his  absence.  Careless  as  his 
nature  usually  was,  still  he  had  a  good  warm  heart  at 
the  bottom.  Percy,  on  the  other  hand,  was  essen- 
tially selfish,  and  simply  pitied  himself  for  his  miser- 


172  Old  Christie  s  Cabin, 

able  condition.  He  was  also,  like  many  selfish  people, 
very  cowardly,  and  as  the  lightning  played  around 
them  he  quailed  again. 

It  was  indeed  an  awful  storm,  and  many  a  year 
had  passed  since  the  old  castle  had  witnessed  such 
a  magnificent  spectacle,  but  Percy  had  no  eyes  to 
see  the  grandeur  of  it.  Leslie  was  thinking  of  his 
mother,  and  he  was  bitterly  condemning  himself  for 
not  having  been  firmer  in  his  desire  to  return  home 
much  earlier  in  the  evening.  Many  of  his  mother's 
words  came  back  to  him  as  he  crouched  down  by 
Percy's  side.  Everything  he  had  ever  done  to  grieve 
her  seemed  to  pass  before  him,  and  he  could  not  bear 
to  think  how  often  he  had  made  her  sorrowful. 

"  If  only  you  loved  your  God  as  you  love  your 
mother,"  she  had  said  to  him  one  day,  when  he  had 
sought  her  in  a  fit  of  penitence.  Now  God  seemed 
speaking  to  him  as  He  had  never  spoken  to  him  before. 
For  the  first  time  he  felt  as  if  he  wanted  God's  love. 
He  seemed,  as  it  were,  standing  before  Him  face  to 
face,  and  yet  he  knew  that  he  was  not  ready  to  appear 
before  Him.  He  had  been  taught  of  His  Saviour's 
love  since  he  had  been  able  to  understand  anything, 
but  it  had  never  seemed  to  touch  him.  He  had  never 
felt  he  needed  Him  till  now. 

How  long  the  boys  stayed  there  they  did  not  know. 
Percy  was  too  frightened  to  know  about  anything. 
Still  the  lightning  flashed  and  the  thunder  rolled 


The  Old  Castle.  \  73 


and  resounded  among  the  cliffs,  while  the  night  grew 
darker.  After  what  seemed  to  them  hours  the  rain 
gradually  lessened,  and  the  thunder  died  away  in  the 
distance,  till  Leslie  started  up,  fancying  he  heard  his 
own  name  called.  Of  course,  it  could  only  be  fancy  ; 
no  living  being  could  be  near;  and,  besides,  who  should 
know  his  name  ?  He  listened  intently,  and  then  again 
came  the  call,  "  Leslie,  Leslie  !  It  was  unmistakable 
this  time,  and  the  voice  was  unmistakable,  too,  for  it 
was  his  father's. 

"  Father,  father !  "  cried  Leslie  as  loud  as  he  could. 

He  was  evidently  heard,  for  the  answer  came  back 
— "  Where  are  you  ?  " 

"  Down  on  the  shore  among  the  rocks." 

Percy  had  sunk  into  a  sort  of  stupor,  partly  with 
fright  and  partly  from  sheer  exhaustion.  Leslie 
roused  him  with  difficulty,  and  at  last  made  him 
understand  that  Dr.  Cameron  was  near,  and  was 
calling  to  them.  With  a  desperate  effort  Percy  roused 
himself,  and  with  Leslie's  help  managed  to  scramble 
over  the  few  remaining  rocks  before  they  reached  the 
path  that  led  up  the  cliff.  At  the  bottom  Dr.  Cameron 
met  them,  with  a  man  from  the  farm,  who  had  come 
to  join  in  the  search.  Hours  had  passed  since  the 
Doctor  had  left  Mrs.  Cameron  to  wait  for  Leslie's 
coming.  At  last  the  violence  of  the  storm  had  obliged 
her  to  start  homewards,  and  when  they  had  nearly 
reached  the  farm  she  had  met  the  Doctor  returning  in 


174  Old  Christie's  Cabin . 

the  light  cart,  as  he  had  felt  anxious  when  he  found 
they  had  not  reached  home  before  him. 

Leslie  felt  more  grieved  than  ever  for  his  thought- 
less conduct  when  he  saw  his  father's  anxious  face, 
and  knew  that  he  must  be  wet  through. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  father,"  Leslie  tried  to  say. 

"  Thank  God  you  are  safe,"  was  the  Doctor's  reply, 
as  he  took  his  boy's  arm  and  helped  him  up  the  gully. 

Never  again  would  Leslie  forget  that  night,  or 
the  sound  of  his  father's  voice  calling  him  out  of  the 
darkness.  It  seemed  to  remind  him  of  the  beautiful 
story  of  the  lost  sheep.  It  was  only  a  Father's  love, 
who  could  not  be  satisfied  until  He  found  it.  Leslie 
felt  that  he  had  been  sought  and  found  by  his  Heavenly 
Father  as  well  as  his  earthly,  and  there  was  joy  that 
night  in  heaven  over  another  sinner  that  had  repented. 

Very  little  was  said  the  next  morning  about  the 
storm  of  the  night  before.  No  one  seemed  any  the 
worse  for  the  drenching  except  Percy,  who  appeared 
to  have  taken  cold.  Leslie  looked  wistfully  at  his 
mother's  pale  face  from  time  to  time,  and  it  touched 
the  boy  more  than  any  words  of  blame  would  have 
done.  The  Doctor  was  to  leave  them  in  the  afternoon 
for  the  Continent,  and  everybody  vied  with  the  other 
in  little  attentions  that  might  save  the  traveller  trouble 
or  add  in  any  way  to  his  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


A    BATTLE-R'OYAL. 

JWO  or  three  days  passed  before  Bernard  re- 
ceived an  answer  to  his  letter.  In  the  mean- 
time Sam  had  been  content  to  stay  on  at  the 
farm,  and  had  willingly  put  his  hand  to  some  weeding 
in  the  garden.  Indeed,  the  boy  showed  such  a  feel- 
ing of  gratitude  to  Bernard  for  his  protection,  that  he 
seemed  anxious  to  do  anything  for  him.  One  thing 
had  set  the  boy  more  at  rest,  and  that  was  the  news 
that  the  whole  gipsy  encampment  had  disappeared  from 
the  neighbourhood,  and  he  had  no  longer  the  constant 
fear  of  Owen  before  him.  As  Sam  still  seemed 
perfectly  willing  to  go  to  the  "  Home,"  there  was  no 
difficulty  in  filling  up  the  necessary  form,  and  before 
the  time  came  for  the  Camerons  to  return  to  town 
all  the  arrangements  were  made  for  his  reception. 

During  this  time  Sam  had  already  learnt  much  that 
he  did  not  know  before.      Deplorably  ignorant  as  the 

boy  was,  he  showed  great  quickness  in  learning,  and 

175 


176  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

his  devotion  to  Bernard  was  very  touching.  Maude 
also  took  a  great  interest  in  the  poor  waif.  From 
the  early  part  of  the  visit  she  had  begun  reading  some 
of  the  Bible  stories  each  day  to  Birdie  and  Milly,  and 
now  she  allowed  Sam  to  come  and  sit  near,  so  that 
he  might  hear  them  too.  It  was  wonderful  to  see 
how  these  untaught  children  drank  in  the  stories  of 
the  Saviour's  love,  and  to  the  blind  child  especially 
they  were  laying  in  a  precious  store  to  think  over  in 
the  less  happy  winter  days  when  she  would  be  back 
again  in  the  London  lodging-house. 

And  so  the  pleasant  holiday-time  passed  on  all  too 
quickly,  and  the  day  was  near  at  hand  when  the 
children  must  go  back  to  work  and  duty.  A  few 
rainy  days  showed  how  wearisome  a  holiday  life 
would  be  if  it  went  on  for  ever.  The  boys  had 
nothing  to  do  now  they  were  deprived  of  their  out- 
door amusements,  and  taxed  the  ever-patient  Mrs. 
Cameron  not  a  little  to  find  them  employment.  But 
happily,  before  the  time  for  going  home  came,  the 
weather  had  brightened  up  again.  The  great  packing- 
up  day  came  at  last,  and  every  one  felt  sorry  to  say 
good-bye  to  Stourcliffe.  No  one,  perhaps,  felt  it  so 
much  as  Birdie,  for,  blind  as  she  was,  she  had  powers 
of  intense  enjoyment. 

While  the  young  people  had  been  spending  such 
a  pleasant  time  at  Stourcliffe,  Mary  Somers  had  been 
settling  down  to  hard  work  in  the  old  cabin  by 


lilllllii1!  •• '  ••-'    -' 

•  -mmm  w,\ .  ,    ,••    \ 


"  She  took  the  unfortunate  offender  by  the  collar." — Page  184. 

M 


A  Battle- Royal.  179 

the  river-side.  Miss  Neville,  true  to  her  word,  had 
supplied  her  with  needlework,  which  was  paid  for 
at  a  good  and  reasonable  price ;  but  she  had  done 
something  more.  She  had  been  specially  taken  with 
Mary's  unobtrusive  ways  and  the  quiet  dignity  with 
which  she  bore  her  sorrow.  She  determined  to  do 
something  for  her  boy  if  possible,  and  so  relieve  her 
of  another  care.  Among  the  circle  in  which  Miss 
Neville  worked  a  plan  had  been  started  in  which 
children  took  a  large  share.  It  was  called  "The 
Ministering  Children's  League,"  and  from  a  small 
beginning  it  had  now  grown  almost  beyond  the  hopes 
of  the  founders.  Now  there  existed  a  "  Home "  for 
orphan-boys,  which  was  supported  by  the  children 
of  the  League,  and  in  this  Home  she  hoped  Harry 
would  find  a  place. 

Miss  Neville  was  a  person  of  wonderful  energy. 
With  her  a  thing  once  thought  of  was  soon  accom- 
plished, so  she  lost  no  time  in  securing  a  speedy 
reception  for  the  widow's  son.  It  was  a  great  wrench 
to  Mary  to  part  with  him,  for  the  child  continually 
reminded  her  of  his  father ;  but  she  knew  that  he 
would  be  well  cared  for,  and  she  would  be  able  to 
see  better  after  the  younger  ones.  Old  Christie  had 
wonderfully  revived  since  she  had  come  to  live  with 
him,  and  once  again  he  felt  able  to  see  after  his  boats 
and  even  take  parties  out  for  a  row.  The  lovely 
summer  evenings  had  tempted  many  from  the  hot 


1 80  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

city  to  the  water-side,  and  Christie  had  been  able  to 
reap  quite  a  small  harvest,  which  was  specially  accept- 
able to  the  little  family.  The  day  after  the  Camerons 
returned  home,  Bernard,  accompanied  as  usual  by 
Hubert  and  Arthur,  paid  old  Christie  a  visit.  They 
found  him  seated  in  his  old  place  at  the  cabin-door, 
but  looking  wonderfully  better  than  when  they  saw 
him  last.  He  looked  up  brightly  as  he  saw  them 
coming. 

"  I  am  right  glad  to  see  you  all  again,"  he  said, 
looking  at  their  sunburnt  faces ;  "  and  yer  do  look 
well,  and  no  mistake.  Why,  Master  Arthur  there, 
even,  has  some  colour  in  his  pale  cheeks  at  last." 

"  And  how  have  you  been,  Christie  ? "  asked 
Bernard. 

"  Oh  !  I'm  first  rate,  sir,  thank'ee.  The  good  Lord 
has  been  showering  me  with  blessings  ;  I  don't  know 
how  to  thank  and  praise  Him  enough.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  beginning  of  it  all  was  when  He  put  it  into 
the  hearts  of  you  young  people  to  come  and  brighten 
up  the  old  place,  and  it's  been  getting  sunnier  and 
sunnier  ever  since." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  say  so,  Christie,"  said 
Bernard.  "  I  think  we  had  more  pleasure  in  doing  it 
than  you  could  have  in  having  it  done." 

"  It  may  be  so ;  I  wouldn't  be  saying  it  wasn't, 
for  our  Lord  Himself  said,  '  It  is  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive,'  and  He  knows  better  nor  any- 


A  Battle-Royal.  181 

body.  And  now  I  suppose  you  young  gentlemen  are 
going  back  to  school  soon,  after  your  nice  holiday." 

"Yes,"  said  Arthur,  with  a  wry  face,  "that's  the 
worst  of  it ;  we've  got  to  go  back  to  those  dry  old 
books.  I  do  hate  them  !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  go  for  hating  them  any  more,  then," 
said  Christie. 

"  Oh !  you  would,  Christie,  if  you  only  knew," 
said  Hubert,  joining  in. 

"  Not  if  you  knew  as  much  as  I  do,  sir.  But  we 
can't  put  old  heads  on  young  shoulders.  I'll  tell  yer 
what  I  think  will  help  you  even  when  the  lessons 
are  hard." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Arthur. 

"  Why,  just  think  as  who  sets  yer  the  lessons ; 
and  when  yer  remembers  it's  not  the  schoolmaster, 
but  Someone  far  above  him,  even  your  Father  in 
Heaven,  I  don't  think  you'll  want  to  hate  the  les- 
sons any  more.  I  don't  think  but  what  you  young 
gentlemen  must  wish  to  please  Him,  or  you'd  never 
have  taken  such  trouble  for  an  old  man  like  me. 
And  yer  see,  my  dears,  we  want  to  please  Him  in 
everything.  If  we  love  Him  we  want  to  keep  His 
commandments,  and  I'm  thinking  that  one  of  His 
commandments  to  you  is,  Do  your  lessons  well." 

"  How  queerly  you  put  it,  Christie !  I  never 
thought  of  God  having  anything  to  do  with  lessons." 

"  Didn't  you,  my  dear  ?     Well,  I'm  thinking  as  He 


1 82  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

plans  it  all  for  us,  and  some  days  He  gives  us  easy 
lessons,  and  some  days  hard  ones ;  but  when  we  love 
Him  it's  nice  to  think  as  He  sets  them  all,  whatever 
they  are." 

"  And  how  are  you,  Mary  ?  "  asked  Bernard  as  she 
came  into  the  kitchen  with  her  baby  on  her  arm. 

"  Nicely,  sir,  thank  you.  I  suppose  you've  heard 
that  Harry's  gone  away." 

"  Yes.      Is  he  getting  on  happily  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  thank  you;  and  it's  a  great  comfort  to 
know  he's  well  cared  for.  You  see,  I  couldn't  look 
after  him  much,  for  I  must  sit  to  my  work." 

"  Did  you  young  gentlemen  want  the  boat  this 
afternoon  ?  "  asked  Christie. 

"  Yes,  Christie,  that  we  do,"  said  Bernard  heartily. 
"I  shall  not  have  another  chance,  perhaps,  till  next  sum- 
mer, for  I  shall  have  to  work  much  harder  next  term." 

"  All  right,  sir ;  come  along.  You  see  I'm  able  to 
get  about  fine  now.  I  thought  my  working  days  were 
over  before  Mary  came,  but  she's  put  fresh  life  into 
the  poor  old  man." 

So  the  boat  was  pushed  down,  and  Christie  took 
his  place  as  of  old,  looking  as  pleased  as  the  boys  to 
be  able  to  help  once  more  in  the  rowing. 

Old  Mr.  Ferrers  had  sadly  missed  his  little  com- 
forter during  all  his  weeks  of  absence.  Nobody 
guessed  how  the  heart  of  the  taciturn  old  gentleman 
had  gone  out  to  his  little  grandson.  The  child's 


A  Battle- Royal.  183 

simple  words  had  more  than  once  touched  his  better 
feelings  as  nothing  had  touched  them  for  many  a  year, 
and  nobody  guessed  how  he  welcomed  the  little  figure 
to  his  library  again.  It  was  a  very  happy  arrange- 
ment that  Mrs.  Cameron  had  suggested  for  Arthur 
to  join  Hubert  in  his  studies.  The  boy  needed  the 
young  life  about  him,  and  he  and  Hubert  were  fast 
friends.  Though  Markham  really  loved  the  boy,  still 
she  had  never  been  able  to  get  used  to  his  childish 
ways,  and  somehow  or  other  poor  Arthur  was  con- 
stantly getting  into  trouble  with  her. 

There  was  nothing  that  old  Mr.  Ferrers  would 
not  get  for  the  boy  if  he  fancied  it  would  give  him 
pleasure,  and  in  this  way  he  ran  a  great  risk  of  being 
spoilt.  Markham  was  as  determined,  on  the  other 
side,  that  he  should  not  be  spoilt  if  she  could  help  it. 
Among  the  many  pets  with  which  Arthur  had  been 
supplied  by  his  grandfather  was  one  that  he  loved 
more  than  all  the  rest.  This  was  a  young  fox  terrier. 
It  had  been  well  trained  before  it  came  into  Arthur's 
possession  ;  but  dogs  were  Markham's  particular  aver- 
sion, and  to  have  such  an  animal  actually  in  the  house, 
and  in  Arthur's  bedroom,  was  more  than  she  felt  she 
could  stand.  It  ended  in  a  battle-royal. 

Rover  had  been  an  inmate  of  Cannon  Lodge  about 
a  fortnight  when  it  happened.  Arthur  had  been  to 
The  Chestnuts  as  usual  for  his  morning  lessons,  and 
the  dog,  missing  his  master,  had  at  last  gone  up  to 


184  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

his  room,  and  finding  the  door  open,  had  decided 
to  console  himself  by  lying  down  to  sleep  on  his 
master's  bed.  His  sleep  was  not  so  sound  but  that 
he  heard  the  first  sound  of  Arthur's  footstep.  With 
a  bound  he  was  off  the  bed  and  downstairs  to  meet 
him.  But  Rover  did  not  know  how  he  had  startled 
Markham  just  as  she  entered  the  room ;  neither  did 
he  know  that  he  had  left  the  impression  of  his  dirty 
damp  paws  upon  the  clean  counterpane.  This  was 
more  than  Markham's  feelings  could  stand.  Down 
she  went  to  the  hall  where  the  unconscious  Rover 
was  happily  frisking  round  his  master.  She  took  the 
unfortunate  offender  by  the  collar  and  began  dragging 
him  upstairs  again,  intending  to  teach  him  in  no 
gentle  manner  that  this  must  be  the  last  time  that 
he  was  ever  to  be  guilty  of  such  misdemeanour. 
But  Arthur  could  not  see  his  pet  treated  in  such 
rough  fashion,  and  rushed  after  Markham,  calling  to 
her  to  let  the  dog  go  instantly.  The  boy's  passion 
rose  higher  every  minute,  and  finding  that  Markham 
did  not  desist,  he  began  thumping  her  with  all  his 
little  strength.  Now  Markham,  having  grown  more 
angry,  threw  the  dog  from  her  and  seized  Arthur, 
holding  him  as  tight  as  she  had  before  held  Rover. 
It  was  now  Rover's  turn  to  do  battle  and  fight  for 
his  master,  as  he  had  fought  for  him,  and  he  made  a 
dash  at  Markham's  arm. 

Old  Mr.  Ferrers  had  been  roused  from  the  quiet  of 


A  Battle- Royal.  185 

his  library  by  the  unusual  noise,  and  now  appeared 
upon  the  stairs. 

"  Arthur,  what  is  this  ?  "  he  said  sternly  ;  and  then 
turning  to  Markham,  he  added,  "  What  are  you  doing 
with  the  boy  ?  " 

"  You  should  ask  what  he  is  doing  with  me,"  said 
Markham  sulkily.  "  But  of  course  it  would  not  matter 
about  me ;  you're  spoiling  the  boy." 

"  You  are  quite  forgetting  to  whom  you  are  speak- 
ing, Markham,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers.  "Arthur,  go  to 
your  room.  When  you  are  calmer  I  will  speak  to 
you." 

The  boy's  face  still  showed  traces  of  his  ex- 
citement, but  without  a  word  he  went  slowly  up- 
stairs to  his  room.  Markham,  greatly  offended,  was 
turning  towards  the  kitchen,  when  Mr.  Ferrers  called 
her. 

"  If  you  can  command  yourself  and  speak  quietly, 
Markham,  I  should  like  to  know  what  has  caused  this 
trouble  with  Master  Arthur.  The  scene  was  most 
unseemly  on  both  sides,  but  we  must  remember  he  is 
only  a  child." 

"  It's  all  that  nasty,  horrid  dog,"  said  Markham 
sullenly. 

"  What  has  he  done  now  that  is  so  dreadful  ?  " 

"  He  goes  everywhere  with  his  dirty  feet ;  he  ought 
not  to  come  into  a  decent  house." 

"  If  I  do  not  object  to  the  dog  coming  into  the 


1 86  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

house,  I  do  not  think  you  need  trouble  about  it.  I 
like  Master  Arthur  to  have  the  dog  about  him." 

"  Oh,  well !  if  you  do  not  mind  the  dog  lying  on 
the  beds  and  dirtying  clean  counterpanes,  I  suppose 
I  must  not  complain,  but  I  like  to  see  the  house 
clean  and  respectable." 

"  But  I  do  not  now  see  what  you  were  holding 
Master  Arthur  so  tightly  for." 

Here  Markham  coloured  deeply.  She  must  confess 
that  she  was  dragging  the  dog  upstairs,  and  Arthur 
had  interfered  to  defend  his  favourite,  and  that  then 
she  had  turned  upon  him.  Markham  was  a  woman  of 
great  truthfulness  ;  whatever  her  faults  were,  telling 
lies  was  not  one  of  them. 

"  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers,  smiling  slightly.  "  The 
boy  was  doing  battle  for  his  pet,  but  I  fear  in  doing 
so  he  lost  his  temper.  For  that  I  am  sorry,  Markham  ; 
and  if  my  grandson  is  the  gentleman  I  take  him  to 
be,  I  hope  he  will  apologise  for  his  conduct.  But  I 
wish  it  to  be  thoroughly  understood  that  the  dog 
is  to  be  allowed  free  entrance  into  Master  Arthur's 
room." 

Mr.  Ferrers  had  spoken  in  the  stately  manner 
which  belonged  to  him,  and  having  said  what  he 
wished,  he  dismissed  the  subject  and  retired  once 
more  to  the  privacy  of  his  library,  giving  Markham 
no  opportunity  for  discussing  it  further. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 
OLD  MARKHAM. 

RTHUR  went  up  to  his  room,  and  throwing 
himself  on  his  bed,  sobbed  as  if  his  heart 
would  break.  Perhaps  he  had  never  missed 
his  mother  more  than  now ;  certainly  he  had  never 
needed  her  more,  and  the  poor  child  cried  on  and 
on  piteously.  The  first  thing  he  was  conscious  of 
was  a  cold  wet  nose  pushing  against  him,  and  Rover 
covering  his  face  with  his  dog-kisses.  He  had  left 
his  door  ajar,  and  after  Rover  had  recovered  from 
the  fright  of  the  skirmish  he  had  made  his  way  to 
his  master's  room  once  more,  being  quite  ignorant  of 
the  mischief  he  had  done  to  the  clean  counterpane. 

"  She  is  a  horrid  old  thing,  isn't  she,  Rover  ? " 
he  said,  patting  his  head  lovingly ;  "  and  we  don't 
love  her  one  bit,  do  we  ?  " 

But  however  horrid  Markham  seemed  to  Arthur, 
she  loved  the  boy  dearly  in  the  midst  of  all  her 
strange  way  of  showing  it.  When  it  was  close 

187 


1 88  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

upon  the  child's  dinner-time  she  felt  so  unhappy  about 
him  that  she  went  up  to  his  room  and  pushed  open 
the  door  as  quietly  as  Rover  had  done.  Peeping 
in,  she  caught  sight  of  Arthur  stretched  upon  the 
bed  fast  asleep,  with  the  dog  curled  up  close  beside 
him.  His  face  still  looked  hot  and  flushed,  and  the 
traces  of  tears  were  very  visible.  Rover  glanced  up 
in  a  moment  and  growled  at  the  intruder,  so  Mark- 
ham  deemed  it  wisest  to  beat  a  retreat. 

"  Where  is  Master  Arthur  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ferrers  as 
he  seated  himself,  having  almost  forgotten  the  little 
episode  on  the  stairs. 

"  He  is  in  his  room,  sir,"  said  the  servant  in  waiting. 

"  Ah !  yes,  I  remember.  Tell  him  that  I  wish 
him  to  come  down  to  dinner." 

As  the  servant  was  on  her  way  she  met  Markham, 
who  told  her  the  boy  was  fast  asleep,  so  with  this 
she  returned  again  to  the  dining-room. 

"  Then  let  the  boy  sleep  on,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers. 

And  a  very  long  sleep  Arthur  had.  At  first  he 
had  shed  angry,  passionate  tears,  but  after  a  while 
they  were  tears  of  utter  loneliness  and  distress.  His 
tender  little  heart  had  felt  deeply  for  his  dog's  wrongs, 
and  now  from  sheer  weariness  he  had  fallen  asleep. 

The  time  for  afternoon  lessons  at  The  Chestnuts 
had  come  and  passed,  but  no  Arthur  appeared.  As 
he  was  so  regular,  Mrs.  Cameron  felt  a  little  uneasy, 
fearing  the  boy  was  ill,  so  after  a  time  she  put  on  her 


Old  Markham.  189 


bonnet  and  went  herself  to  inquire  for  the  runaway. 
She  was  taken  at  once  to  the  library,  and  there  from 
Mr.  Ferrers'  lips  she  heard  the  whole  story. 
,  "  Poor  little  boy ! "  she  said,  her  motherly  heart 
understanding  how  matters  stood,  "  anything  he  loves, 
he  loves  very  dearly.  I  wonder  if  I  may  go  up  to 
his  room  and  see  if  he  is  awake  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  if  you  would  I  should  be  very 
grateful,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers,  looking  a  little  troubled. 
"  I  will  ring  the  bell  for  one  of  the  servants  to  take 
you  upstairs." 

"  No,  please  don't ;  I  know  my  way  quite  well,  and 
should  prefer  to  go  alone." 

So  Mr.  Ferrers  contented  himself  with  opening  the 
door  for  her  in  his  courtly  fashion,  and  Mrs.  Cameron 
went  upstairs  at  once  to  Arthur's  room.  She  opened 
the  door  gently,  and  there  lay  the  curly-headed  boy, 
with  his  dog  close  beside  him,  just  as  Markham  had 
left  him.  Rover  looked  up  and  wagged  his  tail 
contentedly,  for  Mrs.  Cameron  was  a  good  friend  of 
his.  She  sat  down  beside  the  sleeping  boy,  and  deter- 
mined to  wait  a  little  to  see  if  he  awoke.  Close  by, 
on  the  mantelpiece,  stood  a  likeness  of  his  sweet  young 
mother,  and  Mrs.  Cameron  remembered  her  own  boys, 
and  how  much  they  needed  her  in  all  their  joys  and 
sorrows.  After  she  had  sat  there  some  time  Arthur 
opened  his  eyes ;  he  was  still  but  half  awake. 

"  Is  that  you,  mother  ?  "  he  said  sleepily. 


190  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

.  Mrs.  Cameron  put  her  cool  hand  upon  his  head  and 
gently  stroked  his  hair.  Presently  he  looked  straight 
at  her. 

"  I  thought  it  was  my  own  little  mother,"  he  said. 
"  I  thought  she  had  come  back  to  me." 

"  I  wish  she  could,  dear  boy ;  you  want  her  very 
much,  don't  you  ?  But  you  must  try  and  talk  to  me 
just  as  my  Hubert  does." 

"  Mother  was  always  so  sorry  for  me  when  I'd 
been  angry,  but  you  would  think  me  very  wicked, 
Mrs.  Cameron ;  I'm  sure  you  would." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry,  dear.  I  wonder  if  you 
could  tell  me  all  about  it  ?  " 

Arthur  could  not  resist  the  kind,  motherly  voice,  and 
half  sitting  up,  he  began  pouring  out  his  story  into 
her  sympathising  ear.  And  in  the  telling  of  it  he  did 
not  try  to  shield  himself;,  he  fully  acknowledged  being 
very  angry,  and  even  that  he  had  gone  so  far  as  to 
thump  poor  old  Markham. 

Mrs.  Cameron  privately  felt  that  Markham  had  set 
to  work  quite  in  the  wrong  way,  and  had  provoked 
Arthur  at  a  very  tender  point.  But  the  anger  was 
wrong,  any  way. 

"  It  was  hard  for  you  to  see  Rover  being  dragged 
upstairs  so  ignominiously,  but  would  it  not  have  been 
better  to  ask  Markham  what  was  the  matter  ?  I  think 
she  would  have  listened  if  you  had  asked  her  to  leave 
him  alone." 


Old  Markham.  1 9 1 


"  Oh  !  Mrs.  Cameron,  I  am  quite  sure  she  wouldn't. 
She  hates  Rover  ;  I  am  sure  she  does  ;  and  Rover  and 
I  hate  her.  She  is  a  horrid,  cross  old  thing." 

"  Hush,  hush !  Arthur,  don't  say  that ;  you  will  be 
so  sorry.  Never  forget,  dear  boy,  that  words  once 
said  cannot  be  unsaid.  Listen — '  If  a  man  say,  I 
love  God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar;  for  he 
that  loveth  not  his  brother,  whom  he  hath  seen,  how 
can  he  love  God,  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ? ' ' 

"  But  I  can't  love  Markham." 

"  God  will  help  you  to  love  her,  if  you  ask  Him. 
Let  us  think  of  our  Lord's  Prayer  for  a  minute. 
Does  it  not  say  '  Forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we 
forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us  ? '  You  must 
forgive  Markham,  really  and  truly,  before  you  can  ask 
God  to  forgive  you  for  being  so  angry  to-day." 

Arthur  was  listening  intently,  his  hand  resting  on 
Rover's  head. 

"  You  think  I  must  forgive  Markham  ? "  he  said 
slowly. 

"  If  you  are  one  of  Christ's  little  soldiers,  and  wish 
to  follow  in  His  footsteps,  you  must  forgive  her.  I  am 
going  downstairs  for  a  few  minutes.  While  I  am  gone 
think  it  over,  and  ask  God  to  help  you  to  forgive  her 
right  from  the  bottom  of  your  heart.  God  does  not 
care  for  you  to  say  it  without  you  feel  it.  It  is  hard, 
very  hard,  dear  boy,  but  He  will  make  it  easy  if  you 
ask  Him." 


1 92  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

So  Mrs.  Cameron  went  downstairs  to  the  library 
to  tell  Mr.  Ferrers  that  Arthur  was  awake,  and  to  ask 
if  she  might  take  some  dinner  up  to  him.  Mr.  Ferrers 
very  willingly  rang  the  bell,  and  before  long  a  little 
tray  was  brought,  which  Mrs.  Cameron  volunteered 
to  take  upstairs  herself.  She  found  Arthur  with  a 
brighter  face. 

"  I  think  I  can  forgive  Markham  now,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  so  glad ;  I  am  sure  you  will  be  much 
happier.  Did  you  ever  hear  the  words,  '  Let  not  the 
sun  go  down  upon  your  wrath  '  ?  " 

"  No ;  the  sun  has  not  gone  down  yet,  has  it  ? " 
he  said,  looking  out  on  the  garden,  where  it  was  still 
shining  brilliantly. 

"  No,  not  yet.  Have  you  asked  God  to  forgive 
you  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  am  sure  I  was  just  as  horrid  as  poor 
Markham." 

"  You  will  tell  her  how  sorry  you  are  for  having 
treated  her  so  ?  " 

"  Must  I  really  ?  "  he  said,  colouring  deeply. 

"  Yes,  if  you  mean  it ;  God  will  help  you  to  do 
that  too." 

Arthur  did  not  say  anything.  There  are  few  harder 
things  to  a  proud  nature  than  to  acknowledge  our- 
selves in  the  wrong.  So  he  ate  his  dinner  silently. 

"  Well,  how  is  it  to  be  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Cameron, 
when  he  had  finished. 


Old  Markham.  193 


"  I  will  try."  But  Mrs.  Cameron  could  see  that  it 
would  be  a  great  effort. 

Just  as  they  were  leaving  the  room  she  said,  "  God 
has  helped  you  to  do  two  things  to-day,  Arthur.  You 
see  what  a  Friend  and  what  a  Saviour  He  is ;  will 
you  ask  Him  to  help  you  to  overcome  your  hot 
temper  too  ?  You  remember  His  own  words,  don't 
you  ? — '  Blessed  are  the  meek,  for  they  shall  inherit 
the  earth.' " 

So  downstairs  they  went,  and  just  at  the  dining- 
room  door  whom  should  they  meet  but  Markham  her- 
self ?  With  a  crimson  face,  but  with  a  happy  look  in 
his  eyes,  Arthur  went  up  to  her  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Markham,  for  being  so  rude," 
he  said. 

"  It's  all  right,  Master  Arthur,"  she  said  coolly. 
"  I'm  glad  you're  sorry  for  it." 

Mrs.  Cameron  felt  for  the  boy,  and  bidding  him  go 
to  his  grandfather,  she  lingered  a  minute  with  Markham. 

"  I  hope  he  is  sorry,  and  won't  do  the  like  again," 
said  Markham.  "  But  there,  his  grandfather  spoils 
him,  that  he  does." 

"We  are  all  a  long  way  off  being  perfect,  Markham, 
and  I  think  Master  Arthur  cannot  be  much  spoilt  to 
beg  your  pardon  so  bravely.  Sometimes  we  older 
ones  find  it  very  hard  to  acknowledge  ourselves  in 
the  wrong." 

"  Well,  you  see,  Ma'am,"  said  Markham  more  gently, 

N 


194  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

"he's  that  fond  of  that  dog  that  he  will  have  him 
everywhere  with  him." 

"  And  is  not  that  very  natural  ?  You  must  not  for- 
get the  poor  child  is  fatherless  and  motherless,  and  the 
dog's  devotion  is  very  precious  to  him.  I  would  try 
and  not  be  worried  about  the  dirty  footmarks,  as  the 
dog  is  such  a  pleasure  to  him." 

"  I  won't  take  no  more  notice,"  said  Markham.  "  His 
grandfather  said  as  he  hoped  he  would  apologise  for 
his  rudeness,  but  I  didn't  think  he  would." 

"  He  thought  about  our  Lord's  words,  Markham,  the 
words  we  so  often  say  perhaps  without  thinking  of 
them — '  Forgive  us  our  trespasses,  as  we  forgive  them 
that  trespass  against  us.'  I  wonder  if  you  have  ever 
asked  God  to  forgive  you  for  Christ's  sake  ?  " 

The  tears  were  running  down  old  Markham's  cheeks 
by  this  time,  and  Mrs.  Cameron,  feeling  she  must  join 
Mr.  Ferrers,  said  simply — 

"  If  you  have  never  asked  Him  before,  Markham, 
do  ask  Him  to-day.  You  and  I  cannot  do  without 
a  Saviour." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
A   MINISTERING   CHILD. 

was  with  a  good  many  heartaches  that  Birdie 
had  gone  back  to  her  London  home.  Happily, 
in  one  sense,  she  could  not  see  the  discom- 
forts around  her,  that  stood  out  in  sad  contrast  to 
the  pleasant  life  at  Stourcliffe.  Her  usually  con- 
tented spirit  helped  her  to  settle  down  once  more  in 
her  dull  niche  in  London  life.  But  Birdie  had  got 
something  more  than  an  increased  stock  of  health  by 
her  stay  at  the  farm.  Maude  had  been  quietly  water- 
ing the  seed  that  Harry  had  sown  in  his  simple,  boyish 
way,  and  the  loving  Friend  that  he  had  told  her  of 
was  now  a  very  real  Friend  to  the  blind  child.  Life's 
ways  might  be  rough,  but  never  again  could  they  be 
quite  so  cheerless,  for  Birdie  knew  now  that  the  pro- 
mise, "  I  will  never  leave  thee,  never  forsake  thee," 
was  for  her. 

This  great  love  made  the  child  more  patient  in  her 
home.      Merry  and  joyous  as  she  was  by  nature,  still 

195 


196  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

there  had  been  times  when  she  had  tried  her  poor 
worn  mother  with  her  petulance  ;  now  her  great  desire 
was  that  her  mother  should  have  a  share  in  this 
great  love  which  filled  her  heart  the  long  day  through. 
But  she  found  it  very  difficult  to  talk  to  her  mother 
about  it.  The  poor  woman's  heart  was  hard  with 
many  years  of  trouble,  and  it  was  very  difficult  for 
the  long-closed  door  to  open  and  let  in  the  Saviour's 
love.  With  Birdie  it  had  seemed  so  real,  so  true, 
that  her  young  love  had  gone  out  to  Him  with 
warmth  and  tenderness. 

"  Mother,"  she  said  one  night,  "  are  you  so  very 
sad  ?  You  sigh  so  often." 

"  I've  not  much  to  make  me  glad,"  she  said  bitterly. 

"  I  think  there  must  be  always  something  left  when 
Jesus  loves  us,"  said  Birdie. 

Her  mother  was  silent.  What  could  she  say  in 
response.  And  yet  she  would  not  have  taken  the  love 
from  her  child  for  anything.  In  another  minute  her 
father  had  come  in. 

"  What  have  yer  got  for  supper  ? "  he  asked 
roughly.  "I'm  dead  beat." 

"  I  will  go  and  get  something,  Jim,"  his  wife  said 
in  a  half-frightened  voice. 

"  Yes,  do ;  and  be  quick  about  it." 

Again  Birdie  heard  the  long-drawn  sigh,  and  her 
young  heart  saddened  at  the  sound.  Her  mother 
quietly  put  on  her  bonnet  and  went  to  do  his  bidding. 


A  Ministering  Child.  197 

As  her  footsteps  died  away  upon  the  stairs  Birdie 
crept  up  to  her  fathers  side.  He  had  taken  up  a 
newspaper,  and  the  gentle  touch  of  his  child's  hand 
startled  him. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  I  do  wish  mother  was  not  so 
sad.  She  so  often  sighs  now." 

Somehow  a  vision  of  his  wife  came  before  him  at 
that  moment  as  he  remembered  her  on  their  wedding 
morning.  There  had  been  no  sighs  then.  The  face 
was  neither  pale  nor  worn,  and  unasked  the  ques- 
tion rose,  "  What  has  made  this  change  ?  "  But  he 
said  nothing. 

Birdie,  finding  that  she  was  not  repulsed,  ventured 
a  little  nearer.  Hard  man  as  he  was,  he  could  not 
help  being  touched  by  the  pleading  child-face  raised 
so  pitifully  to  his. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  I  wish  you  and  mother  loved 
God.  He  would  make  you  happy." 

God — what  was  God  to  Birdie's  father  ?  And  yet 
long  years  ago  he  had  had  a  mother  who  had  bidden 
him  seek  God  as  his  best  Friend,  as  his  child  was 
doing  now. 

"  I'm  tired,  Birdie,"  he  said  ;   "  leave  me  alone." 

But  the  words  were  said  more  gently  than  usual, 
and  the  child  felt  less  afraid  of  her  father  than  for 
many  a  day.  He  sat  and  read  his  newspaper,  or 
seemed  to  read  it,  but  Birdie's  words  had  touched  a 
chord  in  the  hard  man's  heart  which  he  could  not 


198  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

silence.  Very  soon  his  wife  returned.  She  glanced 
at  him  with  a  keen,  anxious  look,  but  his  very  silence 
was  a  relief.  She  laid  the  supper  on  the  table,  and 
when  he  presently  went  out  without  an  angry  word 
she  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  She  would  have 
wondered  still  more  could  she  have  followed  him. 
He  passed  along  the  busy  street,  past  the  brilliantly- 
lighted  public-house  at  the  corner,  which  generally  was 
so  attractive  to  him.  On  he  went  under  the  starlight 
till  he  reached  the  Park,  which  had  been  such  a  plea- 
sure to  Birdie.  He  could  not  understand  himself; 
and  when  at  last  he  turned,  it  was  to  go  to  his  home 
as  silent  as  he  left  it. 

It  was  a  day  or  two  later  that  Birdie  was  to  pay 
her  longed-for  visit  to  Christie's  cabin.  The  child  had 
never  forgotten  her  old  playmates,  or  Mary's  promise 
that  she  should  come  to  them  in  their  new  home.  It 
was  a  lovely  October  day;  the  sun  was  shining  brightly 
on  the  river  as  Birdie  and  her  mother  took  their  places 
on  the  steamer.  Christie's  cabin  was  about  half-a-mile 
from  the  landing-stage,  and  following  the  streets  that 
ran  along  the  water-side,  they  soon  found  themselves 
at  the  quaint  little  dwelling.  Mary  was  sitting  busy  at 
her  work  as  usual,  for  she  was  one  of  the  best  needle- 
women that  Miss  Neville  had  upon  her  list,  and  there 
was  no  difficulty  in  giving  her  a  good  supply.  There 
was  no  Harry  now  to  tell  Birdie  of  all  the  things  of 
interest,  but  Polly  did  her  best,  and  hand-in-hand  the 


A  Ministering  Child.  199 

little  girls  ran  off  to  seat  themselves  on  the  river-bank 
and  tell  one  another  all  that  had  passed  since  they  had 
flitted  from  the  large  lodging-house.  Birdie  had  plenty 
to  tell  of  all  the  pleasures  of  Stourcliffe,  and  though  her 
sightless  eyes  had  not  enabled  her  to  look  upon  the  fair 
scenes  of  land  and  water,  yet  her  vivid  imagination  had 
pictured  it  all,  and  now  she  told  Polly  of  the  wonders. 
That  was  such  a  happy  day  to  the  child  that  the 
evening  came  all  too  soon,  and  her  mother  hurried 
back,  anxious  lest  her  husband  should  have  reached 
home  before  her.  Her  countenance  fell  as  she  heard 
his  cough  in  the  room,  and  her  surprise  was  beyond 
all  telling  when,  on  entering,  she  saw  a  comfortable 
supper  laid  upon  the  table — a  very  different  repast  to 
what  was  usually  set  upon  it. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  I  thought  you  were  never 
coming,"  said  Jim,  but  not  in  the  old  angry  tones. 

"  Why,  father,  we've  been  to  old  Christie's  cabin, 
and  had  such  a  happy  day.  I've  sat  by  the  river,  and 
Polly  told  me  about  all  the  boats  and  things,  and 
mother  and  I  have  really  been  on  a  steamer." 

She  seemed  to  forget  all  fear  of  her  father  in  her 
gladness. 

"  Come  here  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  But  let's  have 
supper  first,  for  I  am  hungry,"  said  Jim. 

The  fact  was,  Jim  was  really  very  glad  to  see  his 
wife  and  child.  During  those  last  few  days  his  better 
self  had  been  asserting  itself.  Once  more  the  Holy 


2OO  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

Spirit  had  been  speaking  to  the  hard  man  through  his 
blind  child.  He  had  awakened  to  the  fact  that  his 
home  was  miserable,  his  wife  broken-down  and  sad, 
and  he  could  not  hide  from  himself  that  he  had  made 
them  so.  On  this  night  he  thought  he  would  surprise 
her  by  going  home  early,  and  taking  a  tempting  sup- 
per with  him.  On  reaching  home  he  found  it  empty. 
Both  wife  and  child  were  gone.  He  laid  the  table 
as  temptingly  as  he  could,  thinking  they  would  return 
immediately.  But  when  more  than  an  hour  had  passed 
and  they  did  not  come,  the  thought  flashed  across  him 
that  perhaps  his  wife  could  bear  her  life  no  more,  and 
had  left  him,  taking  the  child  with  her.  Time  always 
seems  long  to  those  that  wait,  and  to  Jim  it  seemed 
hours,  anxious  as  he  was  to  begin  to  make  amends 
for  all  the  past. 

Birdie  had  come  home  hungry  with  the  fresh,  crisp 
air,  and  greatly  appreciated  the  welcome  food. 

"  Oh  father  !  it  is  nice,"  she  said.  "  How  did  you 
come  to  think  of  anything  so  good  ?  " 

"  It's  my  fault  you  haven't  as  good  a  supper  most 
nights,"  said  Jim  sadly.  "  I  tell  you,  wife,  I've  been 
thinking  that  things  have  gone  on  in  this  fashion  long 
enough." 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,  Jim,"  she  said,  half-frightened 
at  his  mood. 

"  It's  not  your  fault,"  said  Jim,  "  if  your  husband 
has  spent  his  money  at  the  public-house  instead  of 


A  Ministering  Child.  201 


bringing  comfort  into  the  home.  The  sin  lies  at 
my  door,  and  I  tell  you  I  think  it's  laid  there  long 
enough." 

"  Oh  Jim  ! "  said  his  poor  wife,  bursting  into  tears. 

"  Do  you  mind  my  mother,  Jeanie  ? "  he  asked  in 
a  softened  voice. 

"Mind  her?  Indeed  I  do."  And  a  glimpse  of  the 
old  country  home  came  wafted  back  to  her,  and  Jim's 
mother,  with  her  peaceful  face  and  clean  white  kerchief, 
seemed  to  stand  before  her. 

"  She  wished  me  to  make  my  mother's  God  my 
Friend,  but  I've  turned  my  back  on  Him  all  these 
years.  I've  given  Him  no  place  in  my  heart  and 
home.  But  the  other  night  He  sent  me  one  message 
more.  He  sent  it  through  our  child,  Jeanie,  our  one 
child,  who,  in  my  sin,  I  murmured  at  because  He  had 
made  her  blind.  Isn't  there  somewhere  in  the  old 
Book  some  such  words  as  'A  little  child  shall  lead 
them '  ?  Our  child  has  been  leading  rne,  Jeanie." 

Birdie  had  been  listening  intently.  She  now  slipped 
down  from  her  chair  and  felt  her  way  to  her  father's 
knee. 

"  Father  !  dear  father  !  "  she  said,  putting  her  arms 
all  round  his  neck,  "Jesus  loves  you,  and  gave  Him- 
self for  you.  Wasn't  it  wonderful  love  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Birdie,  wonderful  indeed  that  He  should 
care  for  such  a  sinner  as  your  father." 

"That's  just  it,  father.      I  know  Miss  Maude  said 


202  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

one  day  that  it  was  sinners  Jesus  came  to  save ; " 
and  then  the  verse  rang  out  in  Birdie's  sweet 
tones — 

"  I  hear  Thy  welcome  voice, 
That  calls  me,  Lord,  to  Thee, 
For  cleansing  in  Thy  precious  blood, 
That  flowed  on  Calvary." 

The  weary  mother  sat  and  listened,  the  tears  steal- 
ing down  her  face.  She  knew  that  she  too  had 
turned  her  back  upon  God.  Her  sorrow  had  hardened, 
not  softened,  her  worn  heart.  But  Birdie's  love  was 
so  real,  so  true,  that  she  too  was  touched  by  it. 

From  that  night  Jim's  home  was  different.  He 
knew  that  he  had  not  only  to  seek  forgiveness  for  the 
past  sins,  but  to  forsake  them ;  and  one  of  the  first 
steps  was  to  sign  the  pledge,  praying  that  God  would 
help  him  keep  it.  When  Jim's  money  was  faithfully 
brought  home  it  soon  worked  a  wonderful  change  in 
the  appearance  of  everything,  and  Birdie's  voice  could 
often  be  heard  singing  more  joyously  than  ever.  Her 
father  was  now  devoted  to  her,  treating  her  as  tenderly 
now  as  he  had  roughly  in  the  past ;  and  when  anybody 
asked  wonderingly  what  had  made  such  a  change  in  the 
once  hard  man,  he  would  point  to  Birdie  and  say — 

"  That  was  God's  messenger ;  our  child  was  His 
ministering  angel." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


BERNARD. 

ERNARD  had  found  that  he  was  quite  right  in 
supposing  that  he  should  have  no  more  time 
for  boating.  He  had  been  raised  to  a  higher 
form,  and  this  necessarily  meant  more  work.  Some- 
times he  would  saunter  down  to  the  river-side  and 
have  a  chat  with  his  old  friend  Christie,  but  even 
these  visits  were  few  and  far  between.  One  day  he 
came  home  looking  very  hot  and  tired. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter,  Bernard  ? "  his  mother 
asked,  seeing  his  weary  look. 

"  No,  mother,  not  particularly ;  but  Boulton  is  a 
perfect  bore ;  I  can't  think  what  has  come  to  the  man. 
He  is  so  irritable,  the  boys  cannot  please  him  any  way." 

"  Has  he  always  been  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  no ;  not  like  this.  The  boys  have  been 
out  of  all  patience  to-day,  and  wanted  to  play  him 
a  practical  joke  to  pay  him  out." 

"  Oh  Bernard  !    I  hope  you  did  not  join  in  it." 

203 


204  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

"  No,  mother,  I  didn't ;  and  after  a  while  I  per- 
suaded the  other  fellows  to  give  it  up.  They  would 
only  have  got  into  a  row,  and  done  no  good." 

"  No,  indeed  ;  a  practical  joke  is  a  most  mean  thing, 
and  perfectly  unworthy  of  gentlemen.    Besides,  Bernard, 
you  have  higher  reasons  for  not  joining  in  such  a  thing." 
"  Yes,  mother ;  happily  I  remembered  in  time." 
"  I  am  glad  ;  it  would  be  a  great  dishonour  to  a 
soldier  of  the  King  of  kings." 

"  But  it  is  dreadfully  trying,  mother ;  it  makes  the 
term  work  much  harder." 

"  Is  Mr.  Boulton  in  some  trouble,  do  you  think  ?  " 
"  I  am  sure  I   don't  know.      I   never   thought   of 
such  a  thing." 

"  It  may  be  so  ;  very  likely  he  is  in  ill  health." 
No  more  was  said  that  day,  but  about  a  week  later 
Bernard  did  not  come  home  at  the  usual  hour.     When 
he  at  last  came  in  Mrs.  Cameron  said — 
"  What  has  kept  you  so  late,  Bernard  ?  " 
"Well,  mother,  I  was  leaving  the  school,  when  I 
saw  Boulton  talking   to   a   messenger  who   had  just 
come.      He   looked   dreadfully  worried    and    anxious, 
and  I  heard  him  say,  '  I  will  see  what  I  can  do.      Say 
I  will  be  home  as  soon  as  possible.'      I   don't  know 
what  induced  me,   but   I  went  up  to  him  and  said, 
'  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  sir  ?  '      He  turned  round 
as  sharp  as  a  needle,  and  looked  as  if  he  were  going 
to  speak  in  the  usual  irritable  way,  when  he  suddenly 


Bernard.  205 

changed  completely.  '  Cameron,'  he  said,  '  I  am  in 
sore  trouble.  My  wife  is  very  ill ;  they  have  just 
sent  to  beg  me  to  go  home  at  once,  as  they  fear  she 
is  dying ;  and,  besides,  I  ought  to  go  to  the  city 
on  some  important  business  that  must  be  attended  to 
to-day.  I  have  no  one  trustworthy  to  send  in  my 
place,  and  if  I  go  there  first  I  may  be  too  late.'  He 
nearly  broke  down,  poor  fellow  !  and  I  felt  dreadfully 
sorry  for  him.  '  Is  it  anything  I  could  do  for  you, 
Mr.  Boulton  ?  Could  you  trust  me  ?  '  I  asked  ;  and 
then,  mother,  he  said  if  there  were  a  boy  in  the  school 
he  could  trust,  it  was  I,'  "  said  Bernard,  colouring  ; 
"  and  he  immediately  pulled  out  some  papers  from  his 
pocket,  and  began  telling  me  what  he  wished  done." 

"  I  am  glad  he  could  say  that,  Bernard  ;  it  is  what 
a  mother  is  proud  to  hear  of  her  son." 

"  So,  you  see,  I  went  off  to  the  city  at  once.  And 
then,  as  I  thought  perhaps  it  would  be  a  satisfaction  to 
him  to  know  it  was  all  right,  I  called  at  his  house  and 
asked  to  see  him  for  a  minute.  You  never  saw  any 
one  so  grateful,  mother.  He  seemed  quite  a  different 
man  to  the  Boulton  we  are  accustomed  to ;  and  what 
do  you  think  he  said  ?  " 

"  What  was  it  ?" 

"  He  said  he  knew  that  he  had  often  been  very  cross 
and  irritable,  and  that  he  had  tried  the  boys  very  much, 
but  did  we  know  all  his  intense  anxiety  of  the  last  few 
months,  perhaps  we  should  not  judge  him  so  harshly." 


206  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  I  was  awfully  sorry  for  him,  and  I  was 
sure  the  other  fellows  would  be  too,  when  they  knew. 
'  Perhaps  so,  Cameron/  he  said,  '  but  I  don't  think 
English  schoolboys  are  a  sympathetic  race.' 

"  I  told  him  I  thought  he  wronged  us,  that  there 
were  plenty  of  fellows  with  kind  hearts  which  were 
capable  of  sympathy  when  it  was  drawn  out. 

"  Then  he  said,  '  Well,  Cameron,  I  have  found  that 
there  is  one  at  any  rate.  I  cannot  thank  you  as  I 
would  ;  you  have  done  me  an  inestimable  service  to- 
day. The  doctor  has  just  been,  and  now  gives  me  a 
gleam  of  hope  of  my  wife's  life.  He  said  that  the  con- 
sequences would  have  been  most  serious  had  I  not  re- 
turned home  as  quickly  as  I  did,  for  she  was  asking 
for  me  continually.' 

'"I  am  very  glad  sir,'  I  said,  shaking  hands  with 
him  warmly.  I  shall  never  think  of  Boulton  in  the 
same  way  again  ;  he  has  certainly  got  a  very  tender 
side  to  his  nature  in  spite  of  all  his  irritability." 

"This  is  better  than  a  practical  joke,  Bernard," 
said  Mrs.  Cameron. 

"  Yes,  mother,  indeed ;   ten  thousand  times  better." 

"  It  shows  how  every  day,  if  we  are  only  looking 
for  it,  we  may  be  bearing  one  another's  burdens,  and 
so  fulfilling  the  law  of  Christ.  '  The  Son  of  Man  came 
not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,'  "  said  Mrs. 
Cameron  quietly.  "  But  you  must  be  very  hungry, 


Bernard.  207 

Bernard.  Go  into  the  dining-room  ;  Riley  will  bring 
you  all  you  want." 

If  Bernard  found  his  time  shorter  that  evening  for 
his  studies,  he  certainly  found  them  easier  than  usual, 
for  his  heart  was  light;  and -when  at  length  the  last 
book  was  closed,  his  mother  listened  to  his  joyous 
whistle  as  he  crossed  the  hall  and  joined  her  in  the 
drawing-room. 

"  Ethel  and  Maude  had  also  been  busy  at  their 
studies,  but  they  had  not  forgotten  their  poorer  friends. 
The  end  of  this  term  would  bring  Christmas,  and  they 
had  been  thinking  what  they  could  do  to  make  it  a 
joyous,  happy  time.  As  Maude  said,  it  had  been  a 
wonderful  summer;  and  they  had  all  been  learning 
the  pleasures  of  a  ministering  life.  Their  love  to  the 
Saviour,  who  had  done  so  much  for  them,  had  deep- 
ened, and  His  love  was  reflected  in  their  lives.  Their 
mother  noticed  gladly  the  many  little  acts  of  unselfish- 
ness that  they  showed  to  one  another.  Neither  did  they 
stop  there,  but  the  servants  also  felt  that  the  young 
people  were  more  considerate  than  they  used  to  be. 

"  Mother,"  said  Maude  one  day,  "  Ethel  and  I  have 
been  talking  over  what  we  can  do  to  make  Christmas 
bright,  and  we  want  your  wise  head  to  help  us." 

"  Well,  let  me  hear  what  you  have  been  thinking 
of  first  ?  " 

"  You  see,  there  are  so  many  we  should  like  to  think 
of  this  time.  A  few  months  ago  there  was  only  old 


208  Old  Christie  s  Cabin. 

Christie  in  the  cabin  ;  now  there  are  Mary  and  her 
children." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"Then  there  are  Birdie  and  Milly — we  must  not 
forget  them.  Here  comes  Ethel.  We  were  just 
wanting  you,  Ethel ;  we  are  going  to  have  a  council 
about  Christmas." 

"All  right,"  said  Ethel,  seating  herself. 

"  We  want  to  remember  everybody,"  said  the 
warm-hearted  Maude. 

"  It  will  take  time  and  trouble  and  money,  Maude," 
said  Mrs.  Cameron.  "  Before  you  do  anything  you 
must  count  the  cost." 

"  Oh  mother !  don't  make  it  sound  so  formidable," 
said  Maude  pitifully. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  do  that.  I  think  it  is  a  kind, 
happy  thought,  but  you  have  not  much  time  to  begin 
with,  and  I  do  not  want  you  and  Ethel  to  undertake 
what  you  cannot  carry  through.  I  think  it  must 
mainly  depend  upon  yourselves,  so  that  it  would  be 
wise  for  you  to  consider  it  well  before  making  a 
beginning." 

"  Flannel  petticoats  and  things  of  that  sort  don't 
take  very  long  to  make,  mother." 

"  No,  not  very  long,  perhaps.  How  much  do 
you  think  they  would  cost  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  idea.  About  a  shilling  each  ?  "  asked 
Maude. 


Bernard.  209 

"  A  great  deal  more  than  that,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron, 
smiling.  "You  see  I  am  right  in  saying  you  must 
count  the  cost." 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  we  can't  do  it  after  all ;  and 
I  thought  it  was  such  a  nice  plan." 

"Come,  come,  that  is  giving  up  very  soon.  Now 
I  have  a  plan  to  suggest." 

"  What  is  it,  mother  ?  " 

"Well,  I  suggest  that  you  ask  some  of  your 
young  friends  to  come  and  help  you.  Tell  them 
about  the  poor  people  in  whom  you  are  so  interested. 
It  will,  perhaps,  teach  them  too  some  lessons  on  the 
sweetness  of  ministering  to  others." 

"That  is  a  capital  plan,"  said  Ethel.  "We  might 
meet  once  a  week,  or  once  a  fortnight,  up  to  Christ- 
mas. I  shall  be  delighted  to  help  the  younger 
ones." 

"  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Cameron,  "  that  each  child 
might  be  asked  to  contribute  something  out  of  her 
pocket-money,  which  could  be  devoted  to  buying 
materials ;  and  between  you,  you  would  soon  make 
up  some  useful  garments.  I  should  have  a  box  for 
the  money,  so  that  each  child  might  put  in  what 
she  liked.  It  must  be  a  willing  gift.  Some  children 
could  afford  to  put  in  more  than  others,  so  in  this 
way  there  would  be  no  opportunity  for  comparison." 

"  I  feel  sure  Leila  Stevenson  would  help  us ;  and 
there  are  the  Bevans  and  the  Morrisons,"  said  Ethel. 


2io  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

"  We  might  go  this  afternoon  and  ask  them,"  said 
Maude.  "  We  had  better  begin  next  Saturday." 

So  after  lessons  were  over  the  two  sisters  sallied 
forth  to  make  their  calls  and  give  their  invitations. 
As  Ethel  expected,  Leila  Stevenson  very  willingly 
promised  her  help.  She  was  about  two  years  older 
than  Ethel,  and  had  left  school  some  time  since.  She 
was  a  bright,  lively  girl,  full  of  energy,  but  leading  as 
yet  a  very  aimless  life.  She  entered  heartily  into 
Ethel's  plan,  and  as  she  was  a  universal  favourite 
with  the  younger  ones,  she  was  likely  to  prove  a 
valuable  helper.  The  two  sisters  returned  home 
delighted  with  their  success.  The  Doctor's  family 
was  much  liked,  and  the  invitation  had  been  accepted 
cordially. 

The  next  afternoon,  directly  they  were  free  from 
lessons,  they  went  with  Mrs.  Cameron  to  choose 
materials  for  their  work.  She  made  the  girls  make 
their  own  selection,  and  then  gave  her  opinion  of 
their  choice. 

When  Saturday  came  quite  a  number  of  happy 
young  people  gathered  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
though  Mrs.  Cameron  was  there  to  receive  them,  she 
left  Ethel  after  a  time  to  take  the  lead,  with  Leila's 
help.  Mrs.  Cameron  found  the  boys  hanging  about, 
not  quite  knowing  what  to  be  doing. 

"  Why  can't  we  do  something  for  Christmas  as  well 
as  the  girls  ?  "  said  Hubert  in  an  ill-used  voice. 


Bernard.  2 1 1 

Mrs.  Cameron  looked  puzzled.  Then  a  happy 
thought  struck  her. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  mend  some  of  the  broken 
toys,  and  make  them  fit  to  give  away  to  poor  children?" 

"  That  would  be  splendid,  Arthur,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 
said  Hubert. 

"  There  are  a  few  toys  that  I  could  easily  give  you 
at  once  to  begin  upon,"  Mrs.  Cameron  said. 

"  Where  is  Leslie  ?  Let  us  go  and  find  Leslie ; 
he  is  a  capital  carpenter,"  cried  Hubert. 

Leslie  was  soon  found,  and  having  nothing  parti- 
cular to  do,  he  very  willingly  fell  in  with  the  proposal. 
He  was  specially  clever  as  a  carpenter,  and  was  never 
happier  than  when  he  had  a  hammer  or  chisel  in  his 
hand. 

The  afternoon  proved  a  very  happy  one  for  both 
boys  and  girls,  and  ended  in  an  invitation  being  sent 
to  the  boys  of  the  various  families  who  had  a  taste  for 
carpentering  to  come  and  help  on  that  day  fortnight 
in  mending  up  old  toys. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

ARTHUR'S  DEN. 

RTHUR  returned  to  his  grandfather  that  even- 
ing  in  quite  an  excited  state  about  their  new 
work.  He  seated  himself  on  a  low  stool  near 
Mr.  Ferrers'  chair,  and  began  pouring  out  a  full  ac- 
count of  the  afternoon's  proceeding. 

"  You  know,  grandpapa,  that  I  have  such  a  number 
of  toys,  and  some  of  them  are  broken  a  little.  Do  you 
think  you  would  mind  very  much  if  we  mended  them 
and  gave  them  away  at  Christmas  to  some  children 
who  have  not  any  ?  " 

As  he  was  speaking,  the  thought  crossed  his  sensi- 
tive mind  that  perhaps  it  was  not  quite  the  thing  to 
give  away  toys  that  his  grandfather  had  given  him. 

"  Have  you  been  so  destructive  that  many  of  them 
are  broken  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Ferrers. 

"  I  am  afraid  some  are,"  said  Arthur  in  a  doleful 
voice. 

"I  hope  not  many,  because  some  cost  a  great  deal 

of  money." 

212 


Arthur's  Den.  21 


"  I  tell  you  what,  grandpapa ;  I'll  run  upstairs  and 
bring  them  all  out  of  the  cupboard,  and  then  I  can  see 
better  what  they  are,  can't  I  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;   that  would  be  a  good  plan." 

Arthur  was  running  off,  when  he  suddenly  turned 
back  and  said — 

"  It  wouldn't  hurt  you,  grandpapa,  if  I  gave  away 
one  or  two  you  have  given  me,  would  it  ?  Because 
Mrs.  Cameron  says  many  children  have  not  anything 
to  play  with." 

"  No,  Arthur ;  but  you  must  first  show  me  what 
they  are." 

So  off  Arthur  bounded  to  ask  Bailey  to  give  him  a 
light.  In  the  kitchen  he  found  Markham  sitting  by 
the  fire  alone  and  crying  bitterly. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Markham  ?  "  he  asked  ;  but 
she  only  cried  the  more.  He  had  fully  forgiven  her 
for  her  rough  treatment  of  Rover,  and  indeed  Rover 
himself  had  had  a  more  peaceful  time  since  the  un- 
happy afternoon  when  there  had  been  such  a  battle. 
Finding  she  did  not  speak,  he  put  his  arms  round  her. 

"  Poor  old  Markham  !  "  he  said  kindly,"  don't  cry  so." 

"  I've  just  had  a  letter,"  she  sobbed  out,  "  and  it's 
to  tell  me  that  my  son  is  dead.  He's  died  right  away 
in  America,  and  I  shall  never  see  him  again." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  he  said  ;  "  I  know  how  bad  it 
feels  to  lose  some  one  you  love  very  much.  I've  lost 
my  dear  papa  and  mamma,  and  I  thought  I  should 
never  be  happy  any  more.  And  I  do  miss  them  so," 


214  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

and  at  the  thought  his  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  But, 
dear  Markham,"  he  went  on,  "you  must  try  and  not 
cry,  for  you  will  see  him  one  day  again.  My  mamma 
said  that  I  was  to  be  sure  to  come  to  them,  for  they 
would  be  waiting  for  me  in  Heaven.  And  your  son 
will  be  waiting  for  you,  won't  he  ?  "  added  the  little 
comforter. 

"  Bless  the  child,"  said  Markham,  wiping  her  eyes, 
and  then  crying  again,  "  I  shall  never  be  good  enough 
to  go  there." 

"  I  am  sure  Jesus  can  make  you  good  enough,"  he 
said  gravely,  "  because  my  mamma  said  so." 

Just  then  Bailey  came  into  the  kitchen,  and 
Markham  roused  herself  to  ask  Arthur  if  he  wanted 
something. 

"  Oh  yes,  please ;  I  want  Bailey  to  light  the  gas 
in  my  room,  because  we  are  going  to  mend  up  all 
the  broken  toys  and  give  them  away  at  Christmas. 
Grandpapa  says  he  does  not  mind,  but  I  must  let 
him  see  them  first,  so  I  am  going  to  get  them  all 
out  to  look  at." 

Bailey  was  very  good-natured,  and  in  another 
minute  she  and  Arthur  were  upstairs  lighting  the  gas 
in  the  room  which  had  been  specially  set  apart  for  his 
use.  This  was  the  one  that  his  father  had  told  him 
about,  which  gave  a  view  of  the  river.  Here  the  boy 
could  often  be  seen  curled  up  on  the  high  window-seat, 
watching  the  boats  as  they  sailed  along,  and  often 
thinking  of  his  parents  when  he  felt  specially  lonely. 


Arthur's  Den.  215 


It  had  been,  as  Markham  said,  a  lumber-room  for 
many  years,  and  it  had  been  a  special  grief  to  the 
old  servant  when  Mr.  Ferrers  one  day  expressed  a 
wish  that  the  room  should  be  emptied  and  made  fit  for 
his  grandson's  use.  Markham  had  grumbled  at  the 
trouble,  saying  any  room  in  the  house  would  have 
done  as  well.  But  she  little  knew  the  comfort  this 
room  was  to  the  boy,  associated  as  it  was  with  hia 
father's  boyhood.  Mr.  Ferrers  had  had  a  large  cup- 
board fitted  up  in  which  Arthur  could  keep  his  toys, 
and  this  was  the  receptacle  that  he  now  proposed  to 
turn  out. 

And  such  a  turn-out  it  was  !  Engines,  trains,  pumps, 
fountains,  puzzles,  balls,  kites,  everything  that  could  be 
thought  of  had  found  its  way  to  Arthur's  room.  He 
coaxed  Bailey  into  staying  a  little  while  to  help  him, 
and  certainly  it  was  a  wonderful  array  that  they  laid 
out  on  the  table  and  floor. 

"  Well,  Master  Arthur,  1  hope  you  have  got 
enough  toys.  Why,  there  are  enough  for  twenty 
children  ! " 

"  It  is  a  lot,  isn't  it,  Bailey  ?  "  said  Arthur  gravely. 
"  Now  you  must  help  me  choose  those  which  would 
be  best  to  give  away." 

This  selection  was  a  difficult  matter,  and  in  the 
middle  of  it  a  step  was  heard  on  the  stairs  and 
Mr.  Ferrers  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Dear !  dear  !  Why,  you  have  enough  toys  to 
fit  up  a  shop  ! "  he  said,  smiling.  "  You  ought  to  be 


216  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

a  very  happy  boy,  Arthur,  if  possessing  toys   is  a 
sure  way  to  happiness." 

"  Isn't  it  a  splendid  quantity,  grandpapa?  And, 
you  know,  you  gave  me  most  of  them." 

"  I  don't  think  I  gave  you  this,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers, 
pointing  to  a  wonderful  apparatus  for  making  running 
waterfalls.  "  Was  it  not  this  that  poor  Markham 
wished  had  never  been  invented  ?  " 

"Yes.  She  cannot  bear  it  because,  she  says,  it 
makes  such  a  mess,  but  I  think  it  is  splendid.  Captain 
Inglis  gave  it  to  me  just  before  he  sailed  for  India." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  put  that  among 
the  number  for  giving  away,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers. 

"  Do  you  really  think  so,  grandpapa  ? "  he  said 
in  a  doubtful  voice.  "  But  perhaps  it  would  make 
Markham  happier  if  it  went  away,  and  she  is  so 
unhappy  to-night." 

"Indeed !    Why,  what's  the  matter  with  Markham ? " 

"  She   has   had   a   letter,  and   it   says   her  son  is 
dead ;  he  died  far  away  in  America.     Are  you  not 
sorry  for  her,  grandpapa  ?  " 
.     "  Yes,  very  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers. 

"  She  was  crying  so.  But  I  told  her  that  he 
would  be  waiting  for  her  in  Heaven ;  but  poor  Mark- 
ham  said  she  was  not  good  enough  to  go  there. 
But  I  am  sure  Jesus  can  make  her  good  enough ; 
can't  He,  grandpapa  ?  " 

"  Good-night,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Ferrers,  stooping 
to  kiss  the  bright  face,  "  I  will  leave  you  and 


Arthur  s  Den.  217 


Bailey  to  go  on  with  your  work,  and  I  will  look  at 
your  selection  to-morrow." 

As  Mr.  Ferrers  turned  away  he  stood  for  a  moment 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  and  listened  to  the  boy's 
silvery  voice  as  he  chatted  with  Bailey.  Surely  the 
little  child  possessed  something  that  his  grandfather 
did  not,  and  once  again  he  was  God's  messenger. 
As  Mr.  Ferrers  returned  to  his  easy-chair  Arthur's 
words  came  back  to  him.  He  felt  that  he  too  had 
a  son  waiting  for  him  in  Heaven,  and  he  felt,  as 
Markham  did,  that  he  was  not  good  enough  to  meet 
him  there.  Then  the  childish  words  came  back 
again — "Jesus  can  make  her  good  enough;  can't 
He,  grandpapa  ?  " 

When  Arthur  was  asleep  that  night,  and  Bailey  was 
sitting  with  Markham  over  their  supper,  she  said — 

"  Master  Arthur's  a  deal  of  thought  about  him. 
What  do  you  think  he  said  about  that  waterfall 
affair  that  he's  so  fond  of?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Markham.  "  The 
thing  makes  a  lot  of  mess.  I've  often  wished  as  Captain 
Inglis  had  taken  it  along  o'  him  to  the  Indies." 

"  Well,  it's  likely  it  will  go  away  somewhere  now." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Markham,  looking  over  her  spec- 
tacles. 

"  The  master  came  up,  and  was  looking  round  at 
all  the  toys,  when  he  suddenly  noticed  that  one,  and 
asked  if  that  was  the  one  you  disliked  so  much,  for 
if  so,  perhaps  it  had  better  be  given  away." 


218  Old  Christie 's  Cabin. 

"  I'm  sure  Master  Arthur  would  never  hear  of  that. 
Why,  there  isn't  a  toy  he  cares  for  half  as  much  as 
he  does  that." 

"  Well,  he's  willing  to  let  it  go  for  your  sake,  then," 
said  Bailey.  "At  first,  when  his  grandpapa  proposed 
it,  he  looked  very  crestfallen,  but  presently  he  said 
that  if  it  would  make  Markham  happier  perhaps  it 
had  better  go,  for  poor  Markham  was  so  unhappy." 

"  Bless  the  boy  !  you  don't  mean  to  say  he  said 
that  ? "  she  said,  the  tears  slowly  rolling  down  her 
cheeks. 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  do  ;   and  I  believe  he  means  it  too." 

Markham  did  not  say  anything,  but  she  was  think- 
ing deeply.  The  child's  simple  words  when  he  had 
tried  to  comfort  her  still  rang  in  her  ears,  and  his 
unselfish  love  in  trying  to  make  her  happier,  even 
though  it  meant  parting  with  his  much-prized  toy, 
touched  her  deeply. 

From  that  night  a  perfectly  different  understanding 
commenced  between  the  elderly  woman  and  the  little 
boy.  God's  great  love  began  gradually  shining  in  her 
heart,  making  life  and  its  little  worries  and  big  diffi- 
culties seem  quite  different,  and  from  that  time  she 
and  Arthur  were  true  and  faithful  friends — a  friend- 
ship which  even  Rover  shared.  Good  dog  as  he  was, 
he  did  not  bear  malice,  but  was  quite  willing  to  accept 
the  love  of  his  old  enemy,  so  that  in  after-days  he 
was  often  to  be  found  lying  close  to  old  Markham's 
feet. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

CHRISTMAS  MORNING. 

jHE  interest  with  which  the  young  people  had 
taken  up  their  new  work  did  not  slacken  as 
the  weeks  passed  on.  Ethel  and  Leila  were 
indefatigable  in  doing  all  they  could  to  help  the 
younger  ones,  and  as  Christmas  drew  near  it  was 
wonderful  to  see  the  pile  of  useful  garments  which 
their  busy  fingers  had  made.  Many  of  the  toys  had 
been  very  ingeniously  mended,  and  would  no  doubt 
give  intense  pleasure  to  the  children  for  whom  they 
were  intended. 

The  last  Saturday  before  Christmas  had  come,  and 
on  this  day  the  various  gifts  were  to  be  set  apart  to 
the  most  suitable  recipients.  Ethel  and  Leila  had 
privately  made  the  selection  as  seemed  to  them  most 
suitable,  but  the  final  decision  was  to  be  made  by 
taking  the  votes  of  the  whole  party.  This  was  done 
amidst  a  great  deal  of  merriment,  and  then  a  general 
packing  up  followed.  So  much  more  had  been  ac- 

219 


220  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

complished  than  the  young  workers  ever  expected, 
that  the  names  of  many  other  poor  children  beyond 
those  first  talked  of  were  added  to  the  list.  Perhaps 
the  children's  interest  centred  more  around  Birdie  than 
all  the  rest,  and  special  care  was  taken  to  supply  her 
with  something  that  she  would  like.  The  choice  rested 
on  a  warm  flannel  petticoat  and  a  small  musical-box, 
which  Arthur  asked  his  grandfather's  special  permis- 
sion to  give  away.  It  was  far  from  being  an  un- 
valued toy,  neither  was  it  broken,  but  Arthur  pleaded 
that  it  would  give  Birdie  so  much  pleasure,  that  Mr. 
Ferrers  willingly  gave  his  consent. 

When  the  Christmas  bells  were  ringing  out  their 
earliest  peal  Birdie  woke  up.  She  had  been  told  by 
her  mother,  the  night  before,  that  she  must  hang  up 
her  stocking  and  perhaps  something  very  wonderful 
would  come  to  pass.  Now,  Birdie  had  never  heard  of 
Santa  Claus,  but  wonderingly  she  did  as  her  mother 
bade  her.  When  she  woke  her  first  thought  was  of 
her  mother's  strange  request  the  night  before.  Her 
quick  hands  soon  reached  the  stocking,  and  first  of  all 
there  seemed  tied  to  it  something  very  bulky.  It  was 
covered  in  paper,  and  yet  felt  soft.  Birdie  proceeded 
to  open  it,  and  feeling  it  all  over,  soon  discovered  the 
warm  flannel  petticoat.  Then  she  put  out  her  hand  to 
the  stocking  again,  and  this  time  she  felt  something 
hard  which  fitted  into  the  stocking  closely.  It  did 
not  seem  like  her  own  stocking  either,  it  was  too 


Christmas  Morning.  221 

large  for  that.  Her  mother,  who  had  been  silently 
watching  her,  now  came  forward  and  helped  her  to 
untie  this  second  parcel. 

"Oh  mother!"  she  cried,  "this  is-  the  most 
wonderful  stocking !  Who  can  have  put  all  these 
things  here  ?  " 

"  Well,  let  us  see  what  it  is ; "  and  in  another 
moment  her  mother  was  gently  turning  the  handle  of 
the  little  box,  and  at  the  sweet  sounds  Birdie  clapped 
her  hands  with  delight.  Surely  Arthur  would  have 
been  more  than  repaid  could  he  have  seen  her  pleasure. 
Then  came  smaller  gifts  from  her  father  and  mother,  for 
Jim  could  now  think  of  his  wife  and  child,  and  he  had 
gladly  fallen  in  with  the  children's  wish  that  Santa 
Claus  should  visit  Birdie's  bedside.  It  was  a  happy 
Christmas  to  the  trio  in  that  London  home,  for  now 
they  could  join  in  the  joyous  song — 

"  Unto  you  is  born  this  day 
A  Saviour,  Christ  the  Lord." 

The  Doctor's  family  were  awake  early  that  Christmas 
morning,  for  the  day  was  to  begin  with  a  visit  to  old 
Christie's  cabin.  The  bells  were  ringing  out  as  the 
party,  headed  by  Bernard,  stepped  out  on  to  the  hard 
frosty  road.  The  air  was  clear  and  sharp,  and  the 
cheeks  of  the  young  people  glowed  with  health  when 
they  reached  the  cabin-door.  Old  Christie  had  just 
come  out  to  enjoy  his  morning  pipe,  when  he  caught 
sight  of  the  party  coming  along ;  indeed,  their  merry 


222  Old  Christie's  Cabin. 

laughter  could  be  heard  before  they  turned  the  corner 
of  the  road. 

"  Good  -  morning,  Christie,"  said  Bernard.  "  We 
thought  we  should  like  to  come  and  wish  you  a  happy 
Christmas." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  thank  you  all,  and  heartily  wish  you 
the  same,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Where  is  Mary  ?  "  asked  Maude.  "  We  want  to 
see  her  and  all  the  children." 

The  children  had  already  heard  the  greetings,  and 
now  called  loudly  for  their  mother  to  come  downstairs. 
Many  sad  thoughts  had  come  to  Mary  that  morning. 
How  could  she  help  contrasting  this  Christmas  Day 
with  those  that  were  past  ?  Will  had  always  made  it 
such  a  happy  time,  but  now  she  felt  she  dare  not 
spend  the  hardly-earned  money  on  simple  presents 
for  the  children.  She  had  told  them,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  that  they  knew  their  mother  did  not  love 
them  less  because  she  could  not  show  it  in  Christmas 
gifts.  When  she  came  down  the  little  kitchen  seemed 
full  of  guests,  and  each  guest  carried  a  parcel,  either 
great  or  small.  She  had  hard  work  to  keep  back  her 
tears  as  she  came  among  the  happy  faces. 

"  How  kind  and  good  of  you  all  to  think  of  us  on 
Christmas  morning  !  "  she  said. 

"Oh!  we  liked  coming,  Mary,  better  than  anything," 
said  Arthur  eagerly.  "We  have  been  longing  for 
Christmas  morning ;  haven't  we,  Hubert  ?  " 


Christmas  Morning.  223 

"  We  thought  we  should  all  like  to  make  your 
Christmas  happy,"  said  Ethel,  "  and  so  we  have  come 
to  bring  you  our  little  presents  ourselves." 

The  gifts  had  been  carefully  addressed,  and  soon 
each  one,  including  old  Christie,  was  opening  his  or 
her  own  parcel.  Of  course  Christie's  included,  among 
many  comforts,  some  of  his  much-loved  baccy. 

"  God  bless  you,  dear  young  people.  May  you  be 
better  and  happier  for  an  old  man's  blessing,"  said 
Christie  in  a  trembling  voice.  "  You've  lightened  my 
sorrows  many  a  time  and  cheered  my  once  lonely 
home.  God  bless  you  all !  " 

He  could  not  say  more,  for  his  voice  failed  him, 
and  Mary  found  it  hard  to  thank  them  as  she  wished, 
but  the  children  could  have  no  doubt  of  the  real  plea- 
sure they  had  given  to  the  little  family  in  the  old 
cabin. 

"  Christie,"  said  Bernard  presently,  "  we  have  some- 
thing we  want  to  thank  you  for.  We  all  feel  that  it 
is  through  you  that  we  have  begun  to  think  of  others, 
and  I  hope  we  have  all  determined  to  try  and  live 
ministering  lives.  It  has  been  much  the  happiest 
year  of  my  life,  and  I  think  all  the  others  would  say 
the  same,  for  we  have .  found  out  the  happiness  of 
bearing  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfilling  the 
law  of  Christ." 

Then  the  merry  party  set  off  homewards,  and 
reached  the  hall  just  as  the  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Cameron 


224  Otd  Christie's  Cabin. 

were  coming  downstairs  to  breakfast.  Loving  gifts 
were  passed  round  the  table,  and  probably  there  was 
no  happier  breakfast-party  in  all  London  than  that  at 
The  Chestnuts.  And  when  later  the  family  gathered 
in  God's  House,  they  joined  with  heart  and  soul  in 
thanksgiving  for  God's  great  gift  which  had  brought 
joy  and  peace  into  their  home. 


THE    END. 


«?K/\  YSol ,,,V 


